tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68018097003568310942018-01-14T00:21:24.811-08:00Treks and the CityTashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-55434470835001179152017-01-16T11:40:00.000-08:002017-01-16T11:40:02.134-08:00MLK Jr. Day & Pre-Inauguration Reflections: What Now? The upcoming inauguration of Donald Trump (whom I don’t think I’m going to ever be able to refer to as “President” in this lifetime) is just days away. In the weeks leading up to this event, he has shown in a laundry list of ways – most of which have already been well reported on – the type of presidency he plans to have. He is a misogynistic, totalitarian, xenophobic and racist liar who managed to bamboozle middle America and people who have grown sick of the same old shit in Washington – and has given new hope to racists and sexists throughout the country who have wanted to bring back America to the its former “greatness”.<br /><br />OK now that we have that out of the way: what has been going through my mind?<br /><br />Like with most folks, honestly it’s been a roller coaster. I go from hopeful to despair in a matter of minutes on a fairly regular basis. There are moments when I get frustrated with people who refuse to see how far we actually have come and then there are others when I feel a deep sadness at how far we still have to go. It’s hard to stick with any sort of emotional stance. However, I have said this before and still stand by it – some great things happened in 2016: the prison strikes; the announcement that one of our nation’s more atrocious presidents, Andrew Jackson – an enemy to the Africans forcibly brought here on slave ships and the Native Americans who already lived here – would have his face replaced on the $20 with Harriet Tubman’s; the unemployment rate finally hit a pre-recession low; and the Black Lives Matters movement has grown and has been given more and more legitimacy…. just to name a few. I’m not saying people have no right to be scared – I’m just saying progress is happening even though it doesn’t necessarily feel like it. I have to say that to myself every single day, guys.<br /><br />There is plenty to worry about but I don’t want to lose sight of how far we have come – that is my internal struggle. I’ve been quietly looking at a number of things to get involved with in 2017 – local civil rights and social justice groups whose mission statements are aligned with my core values. My goal is to get more involved in the fight and not just because I think we are all going to need to step up a little bit more in the coming years – but because another really great thing came out of 2016: continual and meaningful conversation on race and gender. This past year, I’ve spoken to so many people who have become more aware than ever of how important these conversations are and have realized that it’s necessary to keep having them and to be OK with how uncomfortable it could get. As a woman of color who has a lot of white friends, over the years I’ve sort of trained myself to keep a lot of my opinions on race to myself. Every once in a while, I’d get offended by something a white friend of mine would say but I always made myself brush it off. I’d tell myself to stop being so sensitive. I have come to realize that by doing that I am doing them and society a disservice. So, even though it makes me deeply uncomfortable, I have unlearned everything about bottling up those feelings and I have forced myself to speak up on topics of race – and also sexism – to those around me.<br /><br />But conversation is just one step. It's an important one but it is not enough and we need to be willing to do just a little bit more.<br /><br />If Trump getting elected as president is what it took to shake America to its core, giving us a frightening wake up call, then so be it. This is not to say that I think it’s a good thing – but honestly, America is just as racist and scary as it’s ever been and now more people understand that. On social media, I referenced <a href="http://www.thefader.com/2017/01/12/blackish-donald-trump-lemons-clip" target="_blank">a recent episode of Black-ish</a>, where the father on the show – who remained mostly silent during an episode where all his colleagues were railing against Hillary’s election loss – is asked by one of his white liberal colleagues why he doesn’t care more about what’s happening in this country. What follows is an amazing monologue that I haven’t actually been able to get out of my head for days and I recommend that you watch it if you haven’t already. Essentially, the black community and other disenfranchised groups are used to losing over and over again. And this has been largely ignored by white people and people of privilege over the decades. But now there is a threat big enough to scare us all. It’s been interesting – the conversations that I’ve been having with a lot of my white male friends, many of whom are treating this election like the end of all things, like it’s the worst thing recent American history has to offer. I was blown by the electing of Donald Trump too (still am) – but what we need to be honest about is how things aren’t getting worse, progress isn’t being stripped away… this has BEEN happening. This has always been America. Not even I understood that fully but this didn’t happen out of nowhere. And I can’t stress enough in saying it’s the systems that exist in this country that have allowed this to happen. Liberal America didn’t get that – and still doesn’t, in some ways – but what happened has happened and all we can do is learn from it and find our own ways to fight back and to move towards a kind of unity against those that want to keep us from progress.<br /><br />Today, on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, I am thinking a lot about the Civil Rights Movement. Not just what MLK Jr. did but folks like Nannie Helen Burroughs, Bayard Rustin, Fred Hampton, Harry and Harriette Moore, Dorothy Height and countless others that go unsung because we live in a society that focuses too much on lionizing big ticket names in the Civil Rights world. I strongly believe that change happens from the bottom up – from impoverished communities where the promise of the American Dream is no more than a lie that can never be attained. Even MLK himself said, “We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed.” I am not taking away anything from what MLK meant to the Civil Rights Movement but not everyone can be what he was – in fact, most people can’t be – and sometimes I worry that when we focus so little on the foot soldiers, if you will, then the battle against oppression starts to feel too daunting. I feel like even MLK would agree with that. We all have the power to impact our society for better or for worse and we are strongest when we are together and when we are mobilized.<br /><br />So yes, times are dangerous and we should all be angry, be critical, be aware, be ready to fight, but also be hopeful. Because at the end of the day, that is honestly the only thing that will keep up moving forward. It’s the one thing we can all share and spread to the communities around us. Knowing what others have had to endure before us, we need to keep in our hearts and in our minds that the human spirit is strong and much has been accomplished. Progress may seem slow, it comes with a lot of risk and it may at times seem like it’s going in reverse but if we all do our part and keep pushing onward then the possibilities are endless. I believe in us and I will keep believing in us, as a people, until my very last breath.<br /><br />Much love and happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Now let’s get to work.<br /><div><br /></div>Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-22652959317490342472016-11-10T21:21:00.004-08:002016-11-11T06:03:28.352-08:00Election Fever Recovery: Getting My Anti-Establishment Groove BackJust completed a very long work day and there were a lot of lows and highs. I woke up this morning feeling kind of miserable and panicky. To be honest, my initial reaction to this week's big news was somewhat calm initially. I mean I was angry in ways that were hard to articulate but I was still feeling pretty hopeful. Today I woke up and every bit of serenity I had vanished into thin air.<br /><br />It's hard to truly explain where my head has gone and the weird sense of despair that keeps taking over me. The truth is I was never one of Hillary’s big supporters – never have been, never will be. And while I know so many people are probably ready to jump down my throat and start pointing fingers at me, saying people like me are the reason that Trump’s impending presidency happened, I need you all to calm down and understand that many people of color that I know and have talked to about Hillary Clinton agree with me. Every time someone sings her praises – for even I will admit that the <b>Idea of Hillary Clinton</b> is pretty good on paper – I will never be able to get past “super predators” and her (and the Democratic Party’s) dismissiveness of the Black Lives Matter movement. I cannot even get into the crime bill shit show of the 90s because that deserves its own separate post but I will say that Clinton did a lot to earn the distrust of people of color, particularly in poor black communities.<br /><br />That being said, I realized something early on in this campaign season. Whenever I would try to say any of the above, I would get shut down – angrily and vehemently – mostly by my privileged white liberal friends. I’m just going to be as real as possible right now and I’m going to hope that I am not attacked for it. I love my passionate liberal friends and share similar ideals as them in so many ways. I understand why they gravitated towards Hillary and I didn’t hate them for it. But a weird shift happened at a certain point…. suddenly, somehow if you didn’t want to vote for Hillary, you were privileged and were considered part of the “problem.” I experienced this first hand so I learned to subdue my opinions and quietly express my reservations to like-minded friends only. &nbsp;I allowed my voice to be squashed. And eventually a weird sort of acceptance happened – not that I suddenly loved Hillary, but I started to… think… maybe she IS the only option at this point?<br /><br />And obviously so much of those feelings also come from a place where I have had to watch (first hand) the media circus lift up Donald Trump again and again, treat him like a joke, like entertainment. And again and again, he would do or say things so reviled that my anti-establishment brain softened and even I started to see Hillary’s appeal. And yet there was that nagging thing in the back of my brain that wouldn’t ever go away….<br /><br />I’m saying all this because Donald Trump is a problem and I hate that he is the President of the United States because this country really MEANS something to me…. but I’m angry that no one wants to have a deeper discussion about why Hillary didn’t nail down the black vote and what her role has been to the black community. Even typing that now, I can already feel many of you getting fired up – outraged because OBVIOUSLY Donald Trump is worse and any other opinion is ignorant and short-sighted. But this is worth a complex discussion and we need to stop talking in terms of “this side is right and that side is wrong”. And honestly, I think it’s time we all really evaluated how this country’s “democracy” is really working out for us.<br /><br />I’ve been ambivalent through a lot of this election, truth be told, up until about a month or so ago. Then, like with most people, election madness set in and I started to feel very stressed and constantly on edge. Election fatigue hit me really hard, guys. I mean, here’s the thing: I genuinely consider myself to be a patriot. I say this without irony: I am frustrated by this country a lot of the time but I have always felt pride in being an American. Or… at least I did?<br /><br />Now this brings me to my point – the pain I am currently going through. Today I listened to the latest episode of Politically Re-Active (a fantastic podcast that I truly recommend to all of you out there) and it wasn’t until then that I realized why I’ve been taking these election results so hard. One of the hosts, Hari (my comedy love), mentioned recently that he was voting for Jill Stein. Flash forward: Hillary loses the election and everyone loses their shit. Since then listeners apparently have decided to blame Hari personally for Hillary’s loss and have attacked him and his character. Hari, a New York voter, felt confident about NY swinging to Clinton so decided to go the third party route in order to legitimize the Green Party, which is more aligned with his ideology – and he was CRUCIFIED for it. I hear so often from progressives that we need to start finding a way to dismantle the crazy two party system that we are strapped to but here is a person who takes a small step towards making that happen in his own way and he’s punished for it. And what were the stakes? Hillary won New York by a landslide. Just the IDEA of thinking differently and moving against the current is upsetting, I guess. ACTUAL steps toward progress are sneered at and there are always excuses for why "this isn't the time". And people are so quick to either forget or ignore the failings of our leaders and to continue to put our trust in systems that have largely worked against most of us.<br /><br />And there it is – I became guilty of the very thing I spend so much time railing against. I allowed myself to believe in the system again, for just a moment in time, and it blew up in my face. Not because Hillary lost, not because Donald was elected president, not because America has too many angry white people holding our country hostage – the most damaging part was I let myself believe in the same machine that inflicted our horrific criminal justice system on us, that uses the housing market and unholy relationship with developers to wipe out communities of color and cultural hubs, that have put little to no accountability on the law enforcement that have waged a war against my black brothers and sisters, that tell women what they’re allowed to do with their bodies, that oppresses us from a very young age and teaches us the importance of compliance. There are a lot of terrible, frightening things about Donald Trump being President – things that have been swimming in my mind since yesterday, like his picking a Supreme Court Justice, his disregard for climate change and the environment, his rampant islamophobia and sexism – but it’s the system that we are all so easy to trust that allowed this to happen in the first place.<br /><br />When the reality of our situation settled in, I felt betrayed. Deeply and soulfully.<br /><br />But now that I’ve identified the source of my pain, I feel fired up. And also, I allowed myself to remember that this was the year of the most brilliant prison strike – events that showed us that resistance can accomplish such good things. There was also significant growth in the Black Lives Matter group. People became aware of the epidemic that is police brutality in a way they hadn't been aware of before (at least people not of color) and some amazing conversations have started to finally happen. And a diverse cluster of badass women were elected into a few of our country’s highest offices – which despite my feelings towards our government, I still believe is a wonderful achievement.<br /><br />Anyway I’m not sure what my next steps are but I do know that I’m glad that I took a day to wallow about the state of this country because I needed it. However, I am gladder that I have gotten my perspective back and feel a certain optimism again – because you know what? We probably have some tough times ahead and there are some major setbacks but if we all become a little more organized, thoughtful and empathetic we can figure this shit out and we can continue to take positive steps forward. People are good and want to do good. And the angry white people – the Trumpeteers – who voted the Orange One into Presidency don’t speak for us and we shouldn’t allow them to drown out our voices.<br /><br />And I, personally, will never allow someone to drown out my voice again – not even people whom I care for. It’s hard to push back when you believe in something that others don’t and it’s easy to just pull back in order to avoid causing any waves – but that is doing a disservice to yourself and to the people around you and to the society that you want to help build.<br /><br />Kudos if you read all this. I don’t expect most people to agree with most of what I have to say but I do hope you can respect my opinions and the spirt in which they were given. Much love to you all and don’t worry… everything will be okay. Weed was legalized in a bunch of places. Bowie’s legacy still lives on. Nutella still exists. And I mean, fuck…. 2016 has to end eventually, right?<br /><br />And I will conclude this never ending post with a quote from the ever-popular Hamilton musical:<br /><br />Those who stand for nothing fall for anything.<br /><br />Much love,<br />NTashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-59455549569585839062016-11-10T21:21:00.003-08:002016-11-11T06:05:22.834-08:00Election Fever Recovery: Getting My Anti-Establishment Groove BackJust completed a very long work day and there were a lot of lows and highs. I woke up this morning feeling kind of miserable and panicky. To be honest, my initial reaction to this week's big news was somewhat calm initially. I mean I was angry in ways that were hard to articulate but I was still feeling pretty hopeful. Today I woke up and every bit of serenity I had vanished into thin air.<br /><br />It's hard to truly explain where my head has gone and the weird sense of despair that keeps taking over me. The truth is I was never one of Hillary’s big supporters – never have been, never will be. And while I know so many people are probably ready to jump down my throat and start pointing fingers at me, saying people like me are the reason that Trump’s impending presidency happened, I need you all to calm down and understand that many people of color that I know and have talked to about Hillary Clinton agree with me. Every time someone sings her praises – for even I will admit that the <b>Idea of Hillary Clinton</b> is pretty good on paper – I will never be able to get past “super predators” and her (and the Democratic Party’s) dismissiveness of the Black Lives Matter movement. I cannot even get into the crime bill shit show of the 90s because that deserves its own separate post but I will say that Clinton did a lot to earn the distrust of people of color, particularly in poor black communities.<br /><br />That being said, I realized something early on in this campaign season. Whenever I would try to say any of the above, I would get shut down – angrily and vehemently – mostly by my privileged white liberal friends. I’m just going to be as real as possible right now and I’m going to hope that I am not attacked for it. I love my passionate liberal friends and share similar ideals as them in so many ways. I understand why they gravitated towards Hillary and I didn’t hate them for it. But a weird shift happened at a certain point…. Somehow if you didn’t want to vote for Hillary, you were privileged and were considered part of the “problem.” I experienced this first hand so I learned to subdue my opinions and quietly express my reservations to like-minded friends only. &nbsp;I allowed my voice to be squashed. And eventually a weird sort of acceptance happened – not that I suddenly loved Hillary, but I started to… think… maybe she IS the only option at this point?<br /><br />And obviously so much of those feelings also come from a place where I have had to watch (first hand) the media circus lift up Donald Trump again and again, treat him like a joke, like entertainment. And again and again, he would do or say things so reviled that my anti-establishment brain softened and even I started to see Hillary’s appeal. And yet there was that nagging thing in the back of my brain that wouldn’t ever go away….<br /><br />I’m saying all this because Donald Trump is a problem and I hate that he is the President of the United States because this country really MEANS something to me…. but I’m angry that no one wants to have a deeper discussion about why Hillary didn’t nail down the black vote and what her role has been to the black community. Even typing that now, I can already feel many of you getting fired up – outraged because OBVIOUSLY Donald Trump is worse and any other opinion is ignorant and short-sighted. But this is worth a complex discussion and we need to stop talking in terms of “this side is right and that side is wrong”. And honestly, I think it’s time we all really evaluated how this country’s “democracy” is really working out for us.<br /><br />I’ve been ambivalent through a lot of this election, truth be told, up until about a month or so ago. Then, like with most people, election madness set in and I started to feel very stressed and constantly on edge. Election fatigue hit me really hard, guys. I mean, here’s the thing: I genuinely consider myself to be a patriot. I say this without irony: I am frustrated by this country a lot of the time but I have always felt pride in being an American. Or… at least I did?<br /><br />Now this brings me to my point – the pain I am currently going through. Today I listened to the latest episode of Politically Re-Active (a fantastic podcast that I truly recommend to all of you out there) and it wasn’t until then that I realized why I’ve been taking these election results so hard. One of the hosts, Hari (my comedy love), mentioned recently that he was voting for Jill Stein. Flash forward: Hillary loses the election and everyone loses their shit. Since then listeners apparently have decided to blame Hari personally for Hillary’s loss and have attacked him and his character. Hari, a New York voter, felt confident about NY swinging to Clinton so decided to go the third party route in order to legitimize the Green Party, which is more aligned with his ideology – and he was CRUCIFIED for it. I hear so often from progressives that we need to start finding a way to dismantle the crazy two party system that we are strapped to but here is a person who takes a small step towards making that happen in his own way and he’s punished for it. And what were the stakes? Hillary won New York by a landslide. Just the IDEA of thinking differently and moving against the current is upsetting, I guess. ACTUAL steps toward progress are sneered at. And people are so quick to either forget or ignore the failings of our leaders and to continue to put our trust in systems that have largely worked against most of us.<br /><br />And there it is – I became guilty of the very thing I spend so much time railing against. I allowed myself to believe in the system again, for just a moment in time, and it blew up in my face. Not because Hillary lost, not because Donald was elected president, not because America has too many angry white people holding our country hostage – the most damaging part was I let myself believe in the same machine that inflicted our horrific criminal justice system on us, that uses the housing market and unholy relationship with developers to wipe out communities of color and cultural hubs, that have put little to no accountability on the law enforcement that have waged a war against my black brothers and sisters, that tell women what they’re allowed to do with their bodies, that oppresses us from a very young age and teaches us the importance of compliance. There are a lot of terrible, frightening things about Donald Trump being President – things that have been swimming in my mind since yesterday, like his picking a Supreme Court Justice, his disregard for climate change and the environment, his rampant islamophobia and sexism – but it’s the system that we are all so easy to trust that allowed this to happen in the first place.<br /><br />When the reality of our situation settled in, I felt betrayed. Deeply and soulfully.<br /><br />But now that I’ve identified the source of my pain, I feel fired up. And also, I allowed myself to remember that this was the year of the most brilliant prison strike – events that showed us that resistance can accomplish such good things. There was also significant growth in the Black Lives Matter group. People became aware of the epidemic that is police brutality in a way they hadn't been aware before (at least people not of color) and some amazing conversations have started to finally happen. And a diverse cluster of badass women were elected into a few of our country’s highest offices – which despite my feelings towards our government, I still believe is a wonderful achievement.<br /><br />Anyway I’m not sure what my next steps are but I do know that I’m glad that I took a day to wallow about the state of this country because I needed it. However, I am gladder that I have gotten my perspective back and feel a certain optimism again – because you know what? We probably have some tough times ahead and there are some major setbacks but if we all become a little more organized, thoughtful and empathetic we can figure this shit out and we can continue to take positive steps forward. People are good and want to do good. And the angry white people – the Trumpeteers – who voted the Orange One into Presidency don’t speak for us and we shouldn’t allow them to drown out our voices.<br /><br />And I, personally, will never allow someone to drown out my voice again – not even people whom I care for. It’s hard to push back when you believe in something that others don’t and it’s easy to just pull back in order to avoid causing any waves – but that is doing a disservice to yourself and to the people around you and to the society that you want to help build.<br /><br />Kudos if you read all this. I don’t expect most people to agree with most of what I have to say but I do hope you can respect my opinions and the spirt in which they were given. Much love to you all and don’t worry… everything will be okay. Weed was legalized in a bunch of places. Bowie’s legacy still lives on. Nutella still exists. And I mean, fuck…. 2016 has to end eventually, right?<br /><br />And I will conclude this never ending post with a quote from the ever-popular Hamilton musical:<br /><br />Those who stand for nothing fall for anything.<br /><br />Much love,<br />NTashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-28902999955892311472016-07-29T05:52:00.000-07:002016-07-29T05:52:05.174-07:00Two Years Later: Trying to Live My Best Life<b>Update:</b> I’m busy as hell and this summer has been chaotic. But! I was able to sneak away to Rehoboth for a week and the beach is always a nice break from the craziness.<br /><br />I really needed the ocean waves to heal me (even though they also dropped me on my ass a few times) because I’ve had some heavy things on my mind. Summer has become kind of a rough time for me in general for reasons I’ve mentioned in other posts. But to be clear, today is the anniversary of my father’s passing. It’s so weird to say that still. It still feels really new somehow. Almost unreal, like he’s still around but I just haven’t talked to him in a while. Every once in a while when I’m speaking to someone new and parents come up in conversation, it’s difficult to find the words. Like, how do you casually tell someone your father is dead without stopping the conversation cold? Those are the weird things I struggle with.<br /><br />You know, I recently watched that new Netflix show, Stranger Things (which, by the way, is fantastic and you should go watch immediately) and there is a scene where the police chief is asked about his daughter and he says something like, “She lives with her mom in the city.” He walks away and the person he was talking to was informed that his daughter actually passed away. Sorry for the minor spoiler there but I really, this captures that experience so perfectly because there’s no guidebook on how and when you tell something like this to another person. But not acknowledging it seems…. like a dishonor somehow? And dishonest.<br /><br />Once, at work, I had a newer colleague ask me what my dad does for a living and where he’s living these days. I paused for a half a second and I honestly considered just saying he was in California (which isn’t really a lie – his ashes were spread along the Pacific Coastline) because I didn’t really want to him to look at me with pity in his eyes. I didn’t want to hear “I’m so sorry” and I didn’t want to have to explain what happened. But in the end, I said that my father had passed recently. I tried to sound breezy about it but I actually sounded very high pitched and the words got stuck in my throat for a beat. The guy was polite and said the standard “I’m sorry” (which I mean… as much as I have grown to hate those words, what else is someone going to say in that scenario?) but then we sort of just… moved on. There wasn’t any real weirdness and I didn’t carry that moment with me for days and days. It’s a process – finding little ways to be okay with something that is very much not okay and learning how to manage your grief in healthy manners.<br /><br />The hardest moments honestly are the times it’s unexpected. When I was at the beach this summer, the group of us strolled down the boardwalk after dinner in search of ice cream and we discovered the most hilarious and random Elvis impersonator performing on the main gazebo with a bunch of back up dancers/singers and very bright lights. It was hilarious and I loved it but it also made me think of my dad, whom I have road tripped with to Las Vegas many times. He was OBSESSED with horrible Elvis impersonators and would plan an entire evening in Vegas around finding the best (or maybe worst?) ones the city had to offer. There is a whole album he had of pictures he’d taken with impersonators over the years. It was such a weird interest and the second I saw that Elvis in Rehoboth, my first thought was, “I have to text this to dad”…. and then I remembered. Those moments when I forget for half a second – those are the most brutal times. Remembering that I will never hear him laugh again or say his signature, “Well isn’t that something?”<br /><br />It’s been two years. Two years. My dad has been gone for two years. How does anyone ever get used to that? He never got to see The Force Awakens. He never got to hear the music of Hamilton. He never got the opportunity to mock the British for Brexit (which he would have done with many, many terrible dad jokes, none of which I can even dream up). He and I will never spend another Thanksgiving together. We’re never again going to sit on the beach together and watch the sun rise over the Pacific Ocean. We’re never going to have another argument over which is better – French toast or waffles. (Yes, French toast is the answer. My dad was confused, clearly.)<br /><br />As Chris Hardwick often talks about on his Nerdist podcast, I’m also part of the Dead Dad Club and I’m still learning how to cope with it. I got through Father’s Day without crying, which is kind of amazing. And I’ve surrounded myself with people that make me see the good in the world. This week had its ups and downs but I was able to spend time with people I care about and who fill my life with laughter. Over the weekend I will be celebrating a couple of birthdays, for two awesome people that help in keeping this crazy life of mine fun. It’s helped in making this week less somber and more of a celebration of life and appreciating what I still have to hold on to. I know it’s what my dad would want. He grew up with nothing (except the strongest and most loving mother in the world, which I guess is actually everything) and all he wanted was for me and my siblings to know that we were loved and lucky – and we should spread love and generosity to others who needed it and accept love in return. I am fiercely independent, to a fault in some ways, so the “accepting love” part can be hard for me sometimes…. but it’s something I’ve gotten better at, especially in the past few years.<br /><br />I guess my point is…. today is hard. But it could be harder, so I think maybe I’m in a healthier place than I have been in the past year or two? Instead of feeling like the world is ending all over again, I’m going to do all the things my dad would want me to do today – do something generous for another person, hug my dog, watch a Star Wars movie, eat ice cream for lunch, spend quality time with my brother, celebrate life with my friends. I’m going to live the best possible version of my life today because that’s the best way I can think of to honor him. How lucky am I to have a dad who, even when he’s passed, inspires me to be happy and to do good things?Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-73266318239320340472016-05-01T18:12:00.002-07:002016-05-01T18:12:29.537-07:00An Ode to Harley Quinn (And Why I'm a Little Nervous)So I've been thinking a lot about the character Harley Quinn and how her character in Suicide Squad will be like.<br /><br /><a href="http://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/batman/images/a/a4/Harley-quinn-female-villians-2439836-259-337.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20110919144733" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/batman/images/a/a4/Harley-quinn-female-villians-2439836-259-337.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20110919144733" width="153" /></a>During my free time, I've bee re-watching a lot of Batman: The Animated Series because it's a great show to just have in the background and I find it oddly comforting. I've long said - and will probably continue to say so for many more years to come - that this is the best version of Batman that has ever been made. It has it all - it's fun and savvy, with an emotional complexity that appeals to kids and adults alike, with absurd villains as well as moral questions that don't always come with easy, spoon-fed answers. Yes there is the typical good guy/bad guy narrative that you'll see in just about any comic book/superhero story but it's actually kind of surprising how many times I'd get to the end of an episode and feel torn about an outcome - or the lack of one. It's the kind of smart show I don't even feel like they make for kids anymore (but please tell me if I'm wrong).<br /><br />Now, with all that being said.... I'm worried about Harley in the Suicide Squad movie, which is set to premiere in August. But I guess I have to explain her as a character a little bit in order to be clear about why I'm worried.<br /><br />Harley is, without a doubt, one of the best comic creations I've ever come across. She was introduced towards the beginning of season one of the animated series and was intended as a one-shot character to never be seen again. However, she tested so well and was so immediately popular that they brought her back as Joker's permanent sidekick/on again-off again girlfriend. Her popularity and cult following grew so much that over time she was written into the DC Comics canon and was even given her own comic book series - having adventures separate from the Joker often times. What is so great about Harley is her penchant for fun above all things and her almost childlike joy when causing chaos. Her bubbly personality is infectious and it's hard not to like her even when she's doing some very, very bad things. There are characters that are firmly grounded as heroes or villains but she doesn't truly fall under either of those categories. She's alarmingly complex. Which brings me to her relationship to the Joker....<br /><br />Now keep in mind when I first started watching this show, I was about 9 years old. And throughout my life, I've periodically gone back to it. And sometimes when you grow up with something, you get caught in what I like to call a "nostalgia cloud" and certain things that are troubling don't really hit you the way that they should. I stand by the statement that the animated series is fantastic but it's not without its problems. Also, I have read an extensive amount of Harley Quinn story lines in comics throughout the years and she's really been fully fleshed in this really interesting, human way. I say all this because as I have been rewatching the TV series, I've realized that the relationship depicted between herself and the Joker is.... really really hard to watch.<br /><br /><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/47/ca/36/47ca36f03ef8de7e929c36c11409d51e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/47/ca/36/47ca36f03ef8de7e929c36c11409d51e.jpg" width="200" /></a>I'm older, I'm wiser and I've met and worked with women who are victims of abuse. And Harley Quinn is a deeply damaged and mentally ill person who is in a really horrifically abusive relationship. Now I don't think there's anything wrong with showing a person in an abusive relationship - in fact I support that 100%. Brings light to uncomfortable truths that people find difficult to face. But there's a light-heartedness to Joker's abuse of Harley that makes me feel queasy. I mean, it's very clear that the Joker is "wrong' in treating her the way he does and they even go into the background of how the relationship began (Harley was his psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum) but I'm not sure the show really made it clear how messed up that relationship actually was and <i>why</i>. And that "why" is very very important for young impressionable children. Even the Harley and Joker merchandising sends mixed messages. Why are they being treated like star-crossed lovers or soul mates or something? Essentially, Joker drove her to madness and then continues to mentally and physically beat her throughout their partnership. Why has that been romanticized?<br /><br />Again, the comics really flesh out Harley, her story and her illness in a way that I think is real unlike almost any other character I can think of. She's very relatable and it's hard not to empathize with her (and to feel the frustration when she inevitably goes back to the Joker every time for reasons varying from wanting the change him to not feeling she's worthwhile without him). It's actually incredibly heartbreaking but it's also such an honest representation.<br /><br />But.... I digress. Back to Suicide Squad. I'm really looking forward to this movie for a lot of reasons - I think this will finally be a DC Comics film I can get behind (since I loathed Man of Steel and cannot bring myself to watch its ill-reviewed sequel). I think DC Comics is doing their best with this next movie to lighten the tone and to "de-grimify" their franchise, which I fully support. It's just going to be difficult to navigate a film which is going to focus very much on Harley and the Joker and their complicated relationship. Based on the trailers, everything I've read about the story being depicted and some leaked footage that has made its way onto the interwebs, it appears that Joker is very much going to be portrayed as Harley's abuser but I am concerned about how that will be written. It can be done very well (as I think the Netflix original Jessica Jones proved in spades) but it'll be a very fine line and if they miss the mark, everything will fall apart.<br /><br />Though at the same time.... the movie has to try to find a way to be fun.<br /><br />I'm very interested to see if the director, David Ayer, is able to pull it off. I'm a big fan of Street Kings and End of Watch and both featured very complex characters but these were also very dark movies.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="http://lovelace-media.imgix.net/uploads/14/dec836f0-9ad7-0133-f20e-0e8e20b91aa1.jpg?w=684&amp;h=513&amp;fit=crop&amp;crop=faces&amp;auto=format&amp;q=70" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://lovelace-media.imgix.net/uploads/14/dec836f0-9ad7-0133-f20e-0e8e20b91aa1.jpg?w=684&amp;h=513&amp;fit=crop&amp;crop=faces&amp;auto=format&amp;q=70" width="200" /></a>Anyway, I'm counting down the days until I finally get to meet the world's first on-screen Harley Quinn (96 days, y'all) and I'm hoping they honor her the way that they should. We're finally entering an era of bad ass female characters on the big (and small) screen and I just want these women to thrive - Harley, Jessica Jones, Wonder Woman (!!!), Captain Marvel, and even this new Mockingbird "Most Wanted" series (a spin off based on the only character on Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. I actively enjoy). I can only hope this trend continues. Movies like Mad Max: Fury Road and Star Wars: The Force Awakens and their rampant popularity and success certainly have helped the cause. The last thing I want to see happen is a regression or more of the same old patriarchal shit.<br /><br />Here's hoping for the best in this new Nerd Girl Golden Age.<br /><br />Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-82927373813672110042016-04-15T06:51:00.000-07:002016-04-15T07:09:17.459-07:00Musings: When Songs Change Us<a href="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/laqIQ-GTUWM/maxresdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/laqIQ-GTUWM/maxresdefault.jpg" width="320" /></a>So recently I had the honor of listening to Bob Boilen of <a href="http://www.npr.org/sections/allsongs/" target="_blank">NPR’s All Songs Considered</a>&nbsp;speak at his book launch (and by the way, if you haven’t picked it up yet, the book is called <a href="https://www.harpercollins.com/9780062344441/your-song-changed-my-life" target="_blank">Your Song Changed My Life</a>&nbsp;and it’s fantastic). During the event, he touched on what song changed him and what songs were picked by other artists he interviewed for his book and why. It made me think about myself and <br />what song has impacted me on that level, if any. I thought about it for a long time. Music is very important in my life and I have a very eclectic collection so picking just one song seemed daunting. I’ve spent days asking my friends what songs they would pick and I have gotten an array of answers – “Ripple” by the Grateful Dead (which was a contender for me as well); “Suedehead” by Morrissey; “Killing in the Name” by Rage Against the Machine; and even “Pony” by Ginuwine (ahem, hello sexual awakenings). But for me, I kept coming up empty. Would I choose something by Radiohead? Jeff Buckley? The Beatles? Oasis? Otis Redding? Lauryn Hill? I had no idea how to even go about deciding how to pick this one song! So many songs have meant so many different things to me. And then I had to stop thinking so hard and really just sit back and track back my musical history to a moment in time and suddenly it was very clear to me.<br /><br />I was 16 years old and I was living in Lakeridge, VA – a bitter transplant from San Diego. I grew up listening to and loving my parents’ music – I didn’t rebel against it at all, I embraced it. Donna Summers? Yes! Smokey Robinson? Aye! The Mamas and the Papas? You betcha! I loved it all – so much so that by the time I reached my teens, I felt like an out-of-place weirdo. Like, why didn’t other people my age love this music as much as I loved it?<br /><br />OK, let me take a step back actually. I don’t want to make it seem like I was or am above Top 40s. Definitely not the case! I owned that first Spice Girls album (and still listen to it to this day). My very first live “concert” was when I was in preschool and I saw Tiffany at the mall. The first tape I ever bought was Different Light by the Bangles (which, by the way, we will revisit by the end of this blog post). If I hear “Everybody” by the Backstreet Boys, I will dance my ass off. Ace of Base – they were my spirit animals. I liked all the music that my fellow 90s kids liked…. but for the most part, it was all very superficial (as a lot of that music can be) and I never felt an emotional connection to most of it. That was reserved for the real music – my parent’s music.<br /><br />At the not-so-tender age of 16, I believed that no one was really making the kind of music that could crawl into your gut and pull at your insides. I mean my older brother introduced me to the Kinks, Violent Femmes, Talking Heads, Queen, The Smiths, Joy Division…. but that still felt like HIS music – like I was just glomming onto, yet again, a better greater era that had come to an end. And hey, nothing wrong with that! I’d accepted this lot in life and I was fine with it. The music industry had given up and I would just have to be okay with the Third Eye Blinds and Jennifer Lopez’s of the world.<br /><br />But then a weird and magical thing happened.<br /><br />I was with a good friend of mine (one whom I have written about before and was probably the most important friendship of my life) and his birthday was coming up. His family was forcing him to celebrate it and he was dreading it because he hated his parents and they were going on a road trip to FLORIDA. Knowing how upset he was about the impending doom, I took him out to dinner – some bougie place by the Torpedo Factory in Old Town Alexandria. We had steak and spiked our Shirley Temples. It was March and still pretty chilly out so he wrapped his coat around me while we walked around the pier. We talked about the books we were reading and how we were going to live in NYC together one day and start a band. He teased me about my love of the Bangles (who, at that time, was my absolute FAVORITE BAND IN THE WHOLE WORLD) and I defended it. I serenaded him, terribly off key, with the Bangles’ “Angels Don’t Fall in Love” and he groaned and shoved me and told me he loved me even though my taste in music was total shit. And I teased him for being a pretentious prat because all he listened to was The Smiths and The Cure – and while I also loved those bands, I was more open to more kinds of music out there and he was not (or so I believed).<br /><br /><a href="http://thesweetsnob.com/wp-content/uploads/ts-500x500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://thesweetsnob.com/wp-content/uploads/ts-500x500.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a>We got into my mom’s car (I was sober, promise) and waited for it to warm up. I flipped through my wallet of CDs and started to put that Bangles album into the player and my friend begged me not to make him listen to it again – not on his birthday. I almost reminded him that this wasn’t his car and it wasn’t ACTUALLY his birthday – it was in a week – but I let it go. I told him we could listen to whatever he wanted to listen to. He pulled this CD out of his messenger bag and the cover was this gorgeous redheaded woman lying on a dirty floor – she had on this leather jacket and her eyes were open but I wasn’t sure if she was alive or not. The band name was Neko Case &amp; Her Boyfriends and the album was Furnace Room Lullaby. I’d heard some of it before that point – but not really. More like it would be playing in my friend’s room when I’d show up to hang out…. and I wo<br />uld immediately make him change it because one type of music that I refused to give a chance was country. Sure, I mean there’s like Johnny Cash and Emmylou Harris but they were exceptions! But today’s country music? Nope. I did not do twang. I’d hear a couple notes from that Neko Case album and I’d make him turn it off straight away.<br /><br />But this was his “birthday” and he knew that this was the moment he was going to get me to shut the fuck up and listen. Honestly, I don’t actually even think he was trying to get me to care about this album as much as he just wanted to listen to it because he loved it and this time I was finally going to be quiet and not whine over Neko Case’s singing.<br /><br />I carefully pulled out of the parking space as he hit play. I remember sort of listening but not really during that first track. As I drove out of Old Town and my friend lit up a cigarette next to me and rolled down the window, I started to settle into the music more. By the third track, I was in. I was all in. The song “Porchlight” has long been one of my favorite Neko Case songs but really it was “Mood to Burn Bridges” that really struck me:<br /><br /><i>So if you want moral advice&nbsp;</i><br /><i>I suggest you just tuck it all away</i><br /><i>'Cause my mood to burn bridges</i><br /><i>Parallels my mood to dig ditches</i><br /><i>Don't cross me on neither a day, baby</i><br /><br />My mind was exploding. It was just like, “Oh shit what is this?!” The lyrics were a punch in the stomach. But more importantly the musicality of it! The album as a whole was firmly placed in the realm of country but wasn’t married to whatever pop hell modern country had supposedly devolved into. It was so expansive – one moment ethereal and the next ass-kicking. And “Mood to Burn Bridges” toed this weird line between playful and vengeful that just…. got it. I don’t know how else to say that. And what I found amazing is while this was definitely an “alternative” country album, there were so many more things happening – it was a little bit rock n roll and a little bit bluesy. And it was all weaved together in this perfect partnership of badass harmony in a way that I had never been exposed to before. It was honestly the very first time that I realized that a) there were artists today still making fucking incredible music and b) genre bending in music is, you know, a thing and it’s amazing.<br /><br />After that, I started to break out of the “musical box” I had created for myself and explored what else was out there. Neko Case was my entrance into a whole new world. And that first time listening to “Mood to Burn Bridges” was the moment I saw the door to that world open up. And while Neko Case herself is firmly a Gen-Xer (and had been in the music industry already for quite some time), this was definitely MY era of music, finally. Someone who was out there NOW making music that was speaking to me. And through Neko Case, I discovered artists like the New Pornographers, AC Newman, Pretty Girls Make Graves, Evan Kane, Ryan Adams, Linda McRae, Wilco and so many others. From that moment on, my devotion to music can almost be described as religious.<br /><br />I still keep a special place tucked away in my heart for bands like The Bangles and Ace of Base, but I had finally discovered my own world of emotionally intricate music that wasn’t through someone else’s generation and it felt pretty good. (Though, that being said, one of the things that I love about Neko Case’s music is how timeless it really is.) And in the end, it shaped who I am now as an appreciator of the musical arts – and really, also opened up emotional flood gates I didn’t even know I had. And what more can you even ask for?<br /><br />So thank you, Neko Case – thank you for giving me a musical world that feels like mine. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be lost in a sea of bubblegum pop and booty-popping remixes, wishing desperately to wake up in a generation of music that understood me in any way. Keep on keeping on, you badass punk rock Patsy Cline.<br /><div><br /></div>Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-47023231472112147312014-11-21T08:09:00.000-08:002014-11-21T08:16:06.819-08:00Bill Cosby: Our Role in Perpetuating Celebrity Canonization<a href="http://www.wondaland.com/core/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/very-young-Bill-Cosby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.wondaland.com/core/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/very-young-Bill-Cosby.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>I would like to start off by stating that I wasn’t originally going to say anything more about this Bill Cosby situation - for a multitude of reasons. I posted my opinion on the Cosby Show as an entity (and that opinion hasn’t changed) but after weeks and weeks of this continued media coverage, it’s getting harder to express my full anger towards everything that’s happening. First, I want to make this very clear right from the bat – while I believe we live in a society where a person should be seen as innocent until proven otherwise and that witch hunts are fundamentally toxic, I do believe that Bill Cosby is guilty of these allegations… that he’s a rapist. I believe it 100% and will certainly eat my words if, at a later date, somehow these allegations are proven to be a conspiracy of lies.<br /><br />Now that I have that out of the way, I am going to say nothing in defense of Bill Cosby. He has been able to get away with far too much over his decades of Hollywood power and it’s not right that he’s had to suffer zero repercussions until these last couple of weeks when all forms of media have recoiled from him almost simultaneously – no more Cosby Show on TV Land, no comedy special on Netflix, cancelled pilot for NBC. And while a bunch of people are like, “Yeah! He’s finally getting his just desserts!”… my response is, “Well what about the victims?”<br /><br />Oh, the victims, you say? Yes, them.<br /><br />And let me say that I am APPALLED at a lot of the things I’ve been reading. I have heard an equal amount of people express disgust towards Cosby’s horrifying actions as they have towards the women who have waited so long to come out about this – either because it was irresponsible of them or implying that this is all one big lie. I don’t even know which of these is most offensive so let’s address both, shall we?<br /><br />I have never been raped. I cannot and will not presume to know what enduring that kind of violation is like. God willing, I’ll never know. More importantly, since I’ve never been through it, I find it absolutely VILE to express judgment towards anyone who has and how they react to it. The fear and the shame that one has to deal with is on a level I can’t even comprehend and I can imagine one’s knee jerk reaction to just cover it up. Is that the absolute best decision a person could make in that situation? Probably not, guys – but victim shaming is the exact fucking reason why people DON’T feel brave enough to say anything.<br /><br />And the implying that these women are lying…. I don’t even know where to begin. I mean, anything is possible. The reality is that there are people who are fame-grabbers, who would stoop to the lowest lows for a piece of it…. but are we honestly ready to believe that ALL of these women are just making it up to target Bill Cosby for… what? No charges have been filed. No charges CAN be filed due to the statute of limitations. None of these women, to our knowledge, have asked him for money – and he has PLENTY of it so believe me, he would have eagerly thrown them millions in order to keep wiping this under the rug. I guess one could argue book deals, TV movies, guest spots on daytime TV talk shows and the like but surely we can’t believe that this has zero basis in reality. And even if one or two of these women are lying, there’s a thin line between reserving judgment and – yes, here we go again – good ol’ fashioned victim shaming.<br /><br />Twitter and Facebook have been on FIRE with pointing fingers at these women – as well as countless bloggers and journalists. And then… I saw that horrifying segment on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BTebhdRvS64#t=71" target="_blank">The View</a>. Now I've never respected this show anyway. From day one, it seemed like an insulting, demoralizing, soulless exploration into exactly what happens when a bunch of rich and famous women are happy to sell out their own gender for a few gold coins and a captive audience. However, to be fair to them, I had never actually watched the show – until this week. What I saw was perhaps the most nauseating and hateful thing I've seen in a long time. If you are truly unable to have a serious, thoughtful dialogue about rape then just shut up. If all your capable of is victim-blaming and defending your good ol’ celebrity buddy Bill (and not even TRYING to look at this from both sides) then you have no business having a national audience. You embarrassed me as a woman, Cast of the View. And you embarrassed yourselves. Perhaps the show is always like this (like I said, I've never watched it) but if it is, then our society is in worst shape than I realized. Stay at home moms, there are better things to watch on TV, I swear! DO NOT CONTINUE WATCHING THIS SHOW!!! I’m dead serious. It’s incredibly problematic.<br /><br />But I digress.<br /><br />All of this has been pretty terrible. But what gets to me the most is how people, for the most part, aren't looking at the bigger issue – that Bill Cosby was in a position to get away with this for so long at all and how we glorify these celebrities so much that they are no longer people to us anymore. It’s clear that people have reacted so strongly to this because everyone has this idea of who they think this man is – a voice for the black community, a pudding pop-pusher who loved “keeping it real” and making us a laugh, Heathcliff Huxtable, our ideal father and advisor. It is hard to accept that he is capable of these crimes he’s committed because we have to accept that he is not who we have turned him into in our collective minds – and more importantly, because of this level of worshiping, we are complicit in granting him the level of power to get away with these crimes. I am a believer of personal responsibility so I’m not saying because you looked up to Bill Cosby that means you’re the reason those women were attacked. Bill Cosby is the reason those women were attacked, and him alone, but we do have to understand that his ability to live a life free of repercussions is because we live in a society that treats the rich and powerful as untouchables. There’s that old term, “With great power comes great responsibility.” I think a more accurate term would be, “With great power comes a great big stack of Get out of Jail Free cards.”<br /><br />It’s hard to think about how much we allow this level of celebrity worship to grow and how much our system is built around keeping the powerful relatively scar-free. It’s hard to think about how much we accept the way this system is built and how unwilling we are to challenge it or understand how when these sorts of crimes actually happen all the time. Bill Cosby’s team (allegedly, of course) systematically crushed and intimidated any woman who attempted to bring his crimes to light. And when one woman finally did bring him to court, it was swept under the rug so quickly and so completely that by the time the media FINALLY decided to give a shit about any of this, it came as a complete shock to everyone in the universe. There have allegations about his behavior since the 80s and yet everyone was acting like someone had discovered that the Dalai Lama eats babies. &nbsp;The media is part of the problem, obviously, but we have to take responsibility too.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://wac.450f.edgecastcdn.net/80450F/ultimateclassicrock.com/files/2014/05/John-Lennon-Hulton-Archive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://wac.450f.edgecastcdn.net/80450F/ultimateclassicrock.com/files/2014/05/John-Lennon-Hulton-Archive.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>We are all guilty of treating celebrities and public figures like they’re more than human and it needs to stop. We need to stop identifying them as the characters they play or through the songs that they write. Another example that’s been pointed out a few times in some recent articles I've written – not to mention by my lovely friend Kat whom I enjoy having spirited debates with – John Lennon. I am an avid Beatles fan. They’re probably one of my favorite bands – top five for sure. I believe that they have made a huge impact in the music industry. I believe that they’re one of the most influential bands of all time. I believe that every single member of that band was necessary to create the magic that they made (yes, even Ringo). However – and this is a big one guys – John Lennon was a wretched, womanizing wife beater. This isn't opinion. It’s public fact – a fact that Lennon himself admitted to and pretty unapologetically acknowledged. Despite this, most Beatles fan look to him as an icon and a beacon of peace – the sort of human being that we should strive to be.<br /><br />Personally, I've always been the sort of person who leans towards separating the art from the artist (but I can totally understand one’s inability to do this because art is personal and we put ourselves into our art) – however, even if I believe that I think that separating the art from the artist shouldn't mean saying, “Well yeah maybe he did these terrible things but he made so much meaningful music….” and just letting yourself forget the ugliness. The Beatles’ music – like the Cosby Show – meant a lot to a lot of people and held much social importance during the time in which they were created. Do I think we should throw that away? I don’t, personally. However, I think that we need to take a step back and understand that regardless of the art these people have created, they should not be canonized by us. This is the true issue: can we as a society learn from this and really move forward towards a more realistic attitude towards celebrities?<br /><br />Thankfully, in the age of social media, it’s harder for the famous to get away with as much and fly under the radar of public scrutiny regarding dark issues that they want ignored. Information is so much easier to find, it’s so much more tangible. And the Twitterverse will rip you to SHREDS. Bill Cosby learned that lesson when his INSANE marketing team came up with the idea of doing a meme contest amid all these rape allegations. And Cosby probably honestly was surprised that it turned out the way it did – with hundreds of “rape”-themed memes popping up everywhere. He had managed for a good four decades to get away with his crimes, flaunting his power and using intimidation to get away with anything he wanted while managing to convince the world to love him. I bet he’s sitting somewhere right now, confused that things have escalated with no sign of calming down. He’s been entitled for too long. This must be very very confusing for him.<br /><br />At the end of the day, though, who knows what will really change – but my hope is that people don’t simply look at Bill Cosby as a monster and close their eyes to the bigger picture. The celebrity arena is filled with people we look up to and who are capable of terrible things and have done them. But creating a world where we bring these people back down to our levels – as humans – we make it harder for them to continue decades of pathological criminal behavior without punishment. And in the meantime, take to social media and create awareness because sometimes (like now) it’s the only real weapon we have. <br /><div><br /></div>Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-17628179395408359332014-10-08T07:02:00.000-07:002014-10-08T07:08:25.244-07:00Skeletons of the Past: the Power of Memory <br /><div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></div><br />So I recently saw a really great little film entitled The Skeleton Twins with a few of my friends. It’s a recently released flick currently showing at DC’s E Street Cinema (one of my favorite movie spots in the city) and it’s starring SNL alums Kristen Wiig and Bill Hader – AND not to mention one of my longest standing fan girl crushes, Luke Wilson. There were many things that I loved about this film. It was loving, heartbreaking, lively, witty, and insightful with shockingly nuanced performances that have resonated within me days after seeing it. But, despite all of this, the part that really touched me was Bill Hader’s Milo.<br /><br /><a href="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2014/07/01/article-2676914-1F4EB71700000578-385_634x351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2014/07/01/article-2676914-1F4EB71700000578-385_634x351.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />At first, I thought this was just because of my relationship with my own brother (Wiig and Hader play fraternal twins, hence the title) but after thinking about it a little bit more, I realized there was more to it.<br /><br />Let me start off by saying I've never been a huuuuge fan of Bill Hader’s. I mean, I've enjoyed him on a fairly superficial level, seeing as his film career consists of mostly second (or sometimes, third) string characters in movies like This is 40, Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian, Tropic Thunder, Pineapple Express, Superbad, Knocked Up… well, you get the point. I enjoyed all of these movies but he’s never a guy that I looked towards for meaningful introspection, know what I mean? While I fully believe that in many cases, comedians make the best type of dramatic actors because there’s a certain degree of humor that you have to be brave enough to tap into when presented with something achingly sad…. I just didn't see that type of potential in Hader.<br /><br />I am so glad that I was so wrong about him.<br /><br />Hader’s performance was sad and human and acidic – and yet there was an innocence there, a longing that crushed me a little bit. It took me a day or so to really understand what it was that moved me about his character – aside from the fact that it was black comedy at its finest – and then it hit me all at once: he reminded me of a close friend of mine from my teen years.<br /><br />I’m going to be somewhat vague about this particular person for reasons that may seem obvious once I’m done so try to bear with me here. When I was younger, I had a friend that I will call Anthony*. As a gal who grew up in a fairly sheltered community and started off at all girl academies, it wasn't until I hit my teen years that I started to really meet the people that would later shape who I would later become (though, let’s be honest, we’re always changing little by little our entire lives). Anthony came into my life when I didn't have a whole lot of friends, when I was obsessed with school, when all I wanted to do with my time was read and write. He was loud and opinionated and told me to get off my ass and live a little. We would sneak out to “adult” parties and try to talk ourselves into bars two or three towns over (we always got into gay bars without a problem as Anthony was young and adorable and I was… well, gay men have kind of always loved me, I’m just gonna say it). He loved to paint and he loved to read my stories and tell me what he honestly thought of them. We’d go shopping for CDs on the weekends and then spend an entire afternoon listening to them in his parents backyard when– and when they weren't home we’d smoke clove cigarettes (yes, I deserve to be judged) and break into his dad’s liquor cabinet. Some nights, usually in the fall, we’d go to a nearby reservoir and we’d talk for hours about how we were going to run off to NYC one day and get shitty jobs and make just enough to support our art and host epic parties that would be the toast of the town. I was always nervous and questioning everything so Anthony seemed fearless to me and it wasn't until much too late that I realized how troubled he was. He’d been through quite a bit of trauma growing up – and really in a lot of cases, when you throw a teenager’s homosexuality into the mix, there’s just a level of fear that the average straight teen may not be able to truly relate to. Anthony didn't have parents that judged him or tried to change who he was. They were kind people that were just very very busy so they just weren't very present in his life. He sort of just…. kept up the bravado for as long as he could until he couldn't anymore. I tried to help him desperately but I was completely in over my head and in the end, Anthony just decided the world was too much for him to handle so he made the choice to leave it.<br /><br />The last year or so of Anthony’s life was a bad one for me for a lot of reasons, but the biggest one is that the good memories started to slip away. He made threats to take his life all the time, a few unsuccessful attempts, he’d disappear for days without telling anyone where he was, he was prone to great levels of despair that would seemingly come out of nowhere, he’d lash against you for strange and unknown reasons. Once, while I was in college in Boston and he was living with some guy in NYC, I had to drive into New York in the middle of night to bail him out of jail – and I had to spend half my rent in order to do it (and thank God for my parents for lending me the money to allow me to do that). I got to a point where I had to just take a step back from him because it was too much… and then one day, he was gone. To this day, a part of me feels like I failed him, like I should have done more for him, like maybe I gave up on him a little and that contributed to what happened. I probably always will feel that way, on some level.<br /><br />But Anthony was also a beautiful person who could make me laugh and inspired me to push myself creatively and step outside of my comfort zone. I crashed with him in NYC for a few weeks one summer and we slept in the same bed every night (unless one of us had a gentleman caller) and we stayed up all night mocking the white collar world (that I’m kind of a part of now I guess) and we loved each other. It’s hard to think about him most of the time because it’s so easy to focus on those last few months – the dark times – and the end result but watching the Skeleton Twins (AND WE’RE BACK) and seeing Bill Hader’s performance took me back to a place that I hadn't been to in a pretty long time. It was painful, for sure, but also sweet. In the end, all Anthony wanted was love and it was so hard for him to accept that the love that he already had was enough. I think a lot of us have that problem. But boy, I feel lucky that he was in my life at all and that I got to learn and grown from him, for better or worse. Not everybody gets a person like that, who inspires you that way and even if he didn't get the happy ending he deserved, I hope somehow he knows how much he mattered and what a permanent place in my heart he has.<br /><br />Thanks, Bill Hader. Thanks for reminding me that sometimes you've gotta push through the sadness and live in as many good memories as you can.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />*<span style="font-size: x-small;">Anthony is not his real name – it feels somewhat invasive to use his real identity for the purposes of this post</span><br /><div><br /></div>Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-26564603542712046812014-09-29T10:29:00.002-07:002014-09-29T10:29:10.147-07:00Soapboxes and Balances It’s so hard to write about a complex topic when the weather is gorgeous and your mind wanders and pretty much only wants to take in things like playing with your dog and daydreaming about the cool fall days to come. It’s hard for me to think about things in the world that are upsetting when I’m feeling so good. But I think that actually ties in with some of the things that have been on my mind lately. I think people tend to get wrapped up in their own lives and take for granted the comforts that they are afforded. There is always a balancing act between being aware of what’s going on in the world and not letting these things consume you. I’m actually pretty bad at this balance – or at least I have been, historically. I’m either shielding myself from things, retreating into a world of happy hours, weekend outings, Netflix and comic books, or I’m living on a pedestal and yelling at people to make them see all the horrible things that need fixing. Neither of these things are bad but when it’s all you’re doing, you’re either diminishing the chances for change or the joy there is to be found around you. So what do we do?<br /><br />Originally, I was going to just post about my thoughts on the quote unquote “War on Women” that’s been taking over our society (well, our media at least because let’s be honest, this stuff is nothing new) but I’d like to shift focus from simply expressing my outrage to having a very thoughtful conversation on why I’m so affected by it rather than why it’s so troubling to our culture.<br /><br />This all began with a conversation I had with a male friend recently about #gamergate. For those of you unfamiliar with this topic, I recommend looking it up but very simply said it’s “a long-simmering pot of male privilege, misogyny, and slut-shaming in the gamer community boiling over” – as quoted from this nice little beginner’s article on the subject that you can find here: <a href="http://www.bustle.com/articles/38742-what-is-gamer-gate-its-misogyny-under-the-banner-of-journalistic-integrity">http://www.bustle.com/articles/38742-what-is-gamer-gate-its-misogyny-under-the-banner-of-journalistic-integrity</a>. Now, to be honest, I could go on and on about this topic for quite a long time but I’m really going to try to stay as broad as possible – as not to alienate and/or bore my readers and also because I have other topics to cover. Additionally I want to admit that I’m already inherently biased on this topic because I am turned off by the whole concept of gaming to begin with. That being said, I have a lot of male friends (and I’m sure some female friends, though I can’t actually think of any off hand) who are into the gaming world and who happen to be great people with full lives and open minds so I’m not going to accuse ALL gamers of the following opinion. The thing is, I find that this world is a breeding place for escaping from human intimacy and is dominated by people who are troubled and unable to have basic human relations and use the gaming world as a hideaway while spewing their rage at a world that has been cruel or unfair to them. In some way, this tugs at my heart because I was really lucky growing up. My parents encouraged traveling and pushed me to participate in the world and instilled in me a certain type of bravery about stepping outside of my comfort zone – but not everyone has that. And honestly, some people are not inclined towards that anyway, which isn’t the worst thing in the world…. but when you are closing yourself off to being out there in the world, in a way you are not allowing yourself to be empathetic or compassionate about other walks of life.<br /><br />Now, when you feel like an outsider and you find a community of other outsiders, it makes sense to gravitate towards that world… and when that world is suddenly invaded by other people – people, it feels in your mind, who caused you to retreat to this world in the first place – it also makes sense that you would lash out. I sort of get it. But where it starts to get sticky is when this “lashing out” is specifically aimed towards a group of people who just want to love the same world that you love. I mean, it’s more complex than that but the irony of creating a world away from the people who have abused you only to turn YOUR world into another version of the world you yourself are trying to escape from – that’s where my empathy disappears. But I guess hate begets hate and so on and so forth. And where does it end? How does it end?<br /><br />The issues surrounding #gamergate aren’t new. I remember expressing my issues with the sexism inherent in the gaming world ages ago but I think a) the media is latching onto it because of the previously mentioned focus on The War on Women and b) women are finally speaking out more about this sexism more because the media is finally starting to give a shit (or at least they know what their readers want to see).<br /><br />I’m going to jump tracks now. I’m not even going to bother posting the link here because I don’t think anyone reading this hasn’t seen it by now – and if you haven’t, a quick Google search will pull it up right away – but… the speech Emma Watson gave before the U.N. recently. Before continuing, I want to state that I think that it was quite brave for her to go in front of so many people – really, in front of the world – and to express her passion for women’s rights through the HeforShe campaign. I’ve felt for a long time that feminism, in its most recent form, just doesn’t work and needs some serious rebranding – and I think that maybe this is a step in the right direction. There are many reason why I feel this way but one of the biggest problems I have with it (and the very name of the campaign, after further thought truly says it) – it feels less focused on gender equality and more focused on a) drilling the definition of feminism to the general public and b) making sure we understand just how victimized women have been and continue to be. I know some people feel put off by my opinion – and that’s fine, I’m not trying to defend my opinion or make others feel the same way that I do – but the way that modern feminists represent themselves is polarizing. I’m not saying that I believe in the supposed man-hating that they’re accused of – that’s just pure fucking ignorance – but I do think that sexism is very real for so many groups and the feminist world doesn’t feel very welcoming. It’s just a perception of course and at a certain point, if you want to gain any steam for your cause, you need to stop screaming at people about what the “truth” of feminism is and find ways to be more inclusive. Also, there are a lot of feminist ideals I can get behind, obviously. But I don't identify myself as a feminist…. and yet, every time I have ever had a conversation about how I don’t identify myself as one to a feminist, the conversation always goes the same way: a long lecture on the history of the movement and how if I’m not part of the solution then I’m part of the problem. I’m absolutely not saying that every feminist has this stance – I want to be crystal clear on that – but I’m also not talking about one or two examples here. Or even three or four. And that, my friends, is a real problem. No, I don’t identify myself as a feminist but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about gender equality and it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to do my part to help us all move forward. There is a sort of defensiveness to this. Instead of just accepting a person’s belief system or limitations in how far they are willing to commit to a movement and finding ways to educate them in the ways that they could help in some aspects of the movement, concentrating on feverishly defending the movement as a whole seems counterproductive.<br /><br />At the end of the day, a person cannot take in every single cause that they come across. That goes back to my original thought – having a balance when it comes to living your life and caring about the world around you. There are many issues I feel passionate about – being active in our communities, AIDS awareness, and artistic rights are paramount to me but I can’t force others to care about these issues the way that I do. Providing them with ways to help is the best thing we can do – creating tangible ways to be part of the solution. And in my experience, limited though it may be, this isn’t how my interactions with feminists have been.<br /><br />But really, the fact that these conversations are happening at all is great – because that’s where it starts. It can’t stop with a cursory critique, either. I would be just as bad if all I had to say was, “Feminism isn’t working,” and just stopped caring. What’s that solving? All I can do is just continue to educate myself and continue the conversation as much as I can, right? And discover ways to be active. More balance.<br /><br />So anyway, when I first came up with the idea of this post, I was angry and ready for fire and brimstone – and then an amazing thing happened…. I took a step back and realized that I have the habit of losing myself a little bit in my passions and so this brings me back to my original thought: what does it all mean? I am all for doing my part to improve the world in whatever small way I can but at what cost? This isn’t taking away from the importance of the issues mentioned above or the many other issues that exist that need our attention but, as a society, can we take a moment and realize that the whole point of any of this – of all of it – is to create a world of peace and prosperity. No matter what your political or philosophical stance is, I would hope that most people at least want that (keeping in mind that peace and prosperity mean different things to different people). And if we’re always angry and always shaking our fits and calling our leaders idiots and criticizing movements we may not full understand or wallowing in everything that is going wrong or could go wrong…. when do we have time to accept the good that is already surrounding us? I’m rambling, I do that, but I guess I’m wondering if anyone has figured this all out and if they can give me any clues. I want to care but I don’t want to despair and I don’t know how to separate the two things.<br /><br />There are so many issues that we need to take on full force. So many things that really break my heart or fill me with rage aimed towards injustice but where can I find peace?<br /><br />Just some musings I’ve been having. Thoughts, my readers, my friends? I’d love to hear them!Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-40129061318783874912014-09-12T06:01:00.001-07:002014-09-12T06:01:38.575-07:00A Brief Note on JoyI have a glass of wine next to me and I’m listening to the vinyl of West Side Story (given to me for my most recent birthday but a good friend). Also, I only got a couple hours of sleep last night and I’m forcing myself to stay awake for at least the next hour so I that I don’t wake up randomly at like 3 am. I’m putting all that out there before continuing so you understand that I might be feeling a bit punchy at the moment.<br /><br />With the season changing and the air cooling and an impending trip to Italy on the horizon, I have a lot to look forward to. Sweater weather, day trips to pumpkin patches, the holiday season, visiting friends, and disconnecting over Christmas with my family! I know that this holiday season will be difficult, for sure – I miss my father deeply and I cannot imagine what the season will be like without him – but there is also a feeling of peace that I haven’t had for years. Every Thanksgiving and Christmas over the last couple of years has had a certain weight to it, a pressure like, “Is this Dad’s last one? We have to make it AMAZING!” Nothing ever felt like it was enough and with his health getting progressively worse and with alarming speed towards the end, there was always a darkness hanging over us. But the great thing is we’re no longer presented with so much physical suffering and, as for the loss, I have a crazy huge support system to help me through it. I know it’ll be hard but my father LOVED the holidays, to a near obnoxious level (just so you know where I get it from), and was OBSESSED with making sure his kids always had better ones than the when he was growing up. It would be a dishonor to his memory to let it pass without a degree of excitement that he would be proud of.<br /><br />And with the turn of a new season, I have created a new playlist to fit my calmer state of mind and the slight chill entering the air. Lots of Miles Davis and Ben Harper and Wilco and Nina Simone and Simon &amp; Garfunkel. Nat King Cole. Louis &amp; Ella. Neko Case. Music is always the best way to compliment my psyche and keep it on the right track.<br /><br />Also, this is the one and only time of year that makes me momentarily forget my West Coast pangs because the weather doesn't get better than this, right? It does make me miss my years in Boston a little, though.<br /><br />In general, I’m pretty happy. Embracing the joy. Loving my current path. Moving in the right direction. Yay for proper footing and positive outlooks! Hugs all around. Kumbaya and all that shit.<br /><div><br /></div>Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-8515784581094546542014-09-08T11:41:00.000-07:002014-09-08T11:41:29.896-07:00Ode to Bibliophilia: Ten Book That Have Influenced My Life<br /><div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></div><br />I'm going to take a break from posting something super sad and depressing, despite the events of this past summer. Instead... I'm going to answer a Facebook post that my amazing friend Caraline tagged me in - name 10 books that have influenced my life. So appropriate, as I'm just starting a new creative writing course and I have books on the brain.<br /><br />I was simply going to respond with a list of books, no explanations, on Facebook but then I realized that I needed people to understand how and why some of these books have impacted my life - in good and bad ways. And because I'm the most verbose human ever, the response on Facebook I was getting ready to post was obscenely long. (PS - didn't Facebook used to limit the amount of characters we were allowed to use? I feel like they did. I probably need those reins.)<br /><br />Anyway without further ado, my ten picks below - feel free to hit me with your feedback:<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">1.&nbsp;<a href="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/blogs/crime/2012/12/05/coldblood.jpg.CROP.article250-medium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.slate.com/content/dam/slate/blogs/crime/2012/12/05/coldblood.jpg.CROP.article250-medium.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><b>In Cold Blood</b> by Truman Capote: read this book later in life but it stuck with me for weeks after reading it, haunted me almost like the subject of the book had haunted Capote those last years of his life. To this day is almost always one of the first books I recommend when someone is looking for a really good book to read. Makes you understand that sometimes in life things just happen that are senseless and also people are more than the worst or best thing that they have ever done. All people are capable of all things.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">2.&nbsp;<a href="http://blog.blio.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/lgst2900+on-the-road-book-cover-jack-kerouac-poster.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://blog.blio.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/lgst2900+on-the-road-book-cover-jack-kerouac-poster.jpeg" height="320" width="214" /></a></div><br /><br /><b>On the Road </b>by Jack Kerouac: I feel like kind of a tool for picking this book but honestly…. this was one of the first books that made me interested in creative writing because it made me realize that it’s OK for the words on a page to come out exactly like the thoughts in your head and it would still be interesting and compelling – at least for me. Also it made me feel like it’s OK to kind of question what the American dream actually means.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">3.&nbsp;<a href="http://images.indiebound.com/454/213/9780553213454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.indiebound.com/454/213/9780553213454.jpg" height="320" width="195" /></a></div><br /><b>Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/Through the Looking-Glass</b> by Lewis Carroll: a set of books I love so much that I based a dissertation on it. Incidentally, I've never read any book more times than I have read Through the Looking-Glass. I still have the ratty old copy that my dad bought me when I was about 8 years old and I still have the VHS Disney version of the movie even though I don't have a working VCR. The magic of youth and discovering new worlds! This is all me all the way.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">4.&nbsp;<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BeGEAD8oSwg/TJFU1Z_uyjI/AAAAAAAADHs/RYbE4Gkruas/s1600/maus_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BeGEAD8oSwg/TJFU1Z_uyjI/AAAAAAAADHs/RYbE4Gkruas/s320/maus_01.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></div><br /><div><div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></div><b>Maus</b> by Art Spiegelman: this book taught me about the power that a graphic novel could be capable of – that it could be more than just superheroes and the like (not that I don’t love a good superhero comic book because I definitely do). One of the best pieces of literature I have ever read regarding the Holocaust and one that has stayed with me for years.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">5.&nbsp;<a href="https://www.mtholyoke.edu/omc/kidsphil/questions/Littleprince/littleprince_cover_380pixels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://www.mtholyoke.edu/omc/kidsphil/questions/Littleprince/littleprince_cover_380pixels.jpg" width="258" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><b>The Little Prince</b> by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry: I can’t even convey to you the importance of this book to me. There aren't enough words. I grew up with my parents (my mom, in particular) reading this to me. My grandfather used to read that book to my mom and her siblings. It sparked my sense of adventure and wanderlust, my love of seeing new places and finding new things. &nbsp;Probably the single most influential book of my childhood.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">6.&nbsp;<a href="http://images.indiebound.com/003/213/9780553213003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://images.indiebound.com/003/213/9780553213003.jpg" width="192" /></a></div><br /><b>A Midsummer Night’s Dream</b> by William Shakespeare: I love much humor I found in this, even when I was 15 years old and bitter about all the books that were being forced upon me (even though I secretly actually loved having books forced upon me). It’s the first Shakespeare play I ever read and still my favorite. People always would tell me how dark his work was when I was in high school and I’m glad this was my introduction.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">7.<a href="http://one-elevenbooks.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/amazingadeventuresofkavalier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://one-elevenbooks.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/amazingadeventuresofkavalier.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><b>The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier &amp; Clay</b> by Michael Chabon: this is actually not my favorite book of his (that would be Wonder Boys) but this book, even though I am not a boy, made me think about my best friend in elementary school whom I still write letters to. And how much we've been through together. And how even though we don’t really see each other and aren't really even in each other’s lives anymore, we've been through a lot and she helped to shape me into the person I am today. We made this really horrible series of comic strips together (Miss Lilly Pad, a story about a really rambunctious sassy frog who was probably 15% Kermit, 30% Disney Princess and 55% Carmen Sandiego). We would camp out in our backyards and stay up at all hours of the night working on this ridiculous thing. It caused us to fight. It caused us to laugh. We cried and we yelled at each other. During the process of making these comic strips – the years we devoted to it – so many things happened in our lives. Deaths occurred in our families (my grandparents, her mother). Boys broke our hearts and we broke theirs. Also we both had parents (my mom is Italian and her mom was Swiss) who were pretty much immigrants and instilled in us the traditions of our families that date back centuries. I don’t know. I saw a lot of our friendship in this book; I related to it a lot. So much so that after I read it, I shipped her a copy as well with a note that said, “Miss you, Clay. Love, Kavalier”. Goodness I can’t believe I wrote so much about this one! Makes me want to re-read it (again).<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">8.<a href="http://www.marshall.edu/library/bannedbooks/Images/house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.marshall.edu/library/bannedbooks/Images/house.jpg" width="196" /></a></div><br /><br /><b>The House of the Spirits</b> by Isabel Allende: one of the most beautifully written books I have or will ever read in my life. It’s the first book I ever read, as an adult, from cover to cover in one sitting. It’s the book that re-ignited my love for literature post-college when I was feeling kind of burnt out on reading in general. Highly recommended.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">9.<a href="http://molempire.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/The-Old-Man-and-the-Sea-by-Ernest-Hemingway-Book-Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://molempire.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/The-Old-Man-and-the-Sea-by-Ernest-Hemingway-Book-Cover.jpg" width="215" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><b>The Old Man and the Sea</b> by Ernest Hemingway: I’m actually going to list a book because for better or worse (read: WORSE), this book was the first book to teach me what I do NOT want in literature. A) I don’t need serious action to happen but I need <i>something</i> compelling to take place. B) I need characters I can relate to on some level, <i>any</i> level. C) I need you to not stick Christ symbols down my throat the whole time. Horrible horrible book. Horrible! It’s the first book I actually remember being able to identify, as a piece of literature, that I didn't like it and I could solidly discuss why. Frankly I could devote an entire blog post to it, if I really felt like it (but this book has already stolen too much of my time as it is).<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">10.<a href="http://behindthebluesky.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/the-autobiography-of-malcolm-x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://behindthebluesky.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/the-autobiography-of-malcolm-x.jpg" width="207" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><b>The Autobiography of Malcolm X </b>with Alex Haley: I took a lot from this book but the biggest thing I took from it is the importance of individuality and putting yourself and your people before the systems that our “leaders” force onto us. Do I think that every system that exists is evil or the purpose is always to take away our freedoms? No. But I do think we have a responsibility to ask the hard questions and to push back when the systems DO take away our freedoms as human beings – and pacifism isn't always the way. Sometimes you have to be willing to risk a lot to gain a lot. I thought this book was going to be a very angry one but honestly it was passionate but actually more pragmatic and spiritual than anything else. A surprising and beautiful read.<br /><div><br /></div></div>Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-43369401147884984192014-06-23T09:07:00.000-07:002014-06-23T09:07:55.839-07:00Post Father's Day Reflections<div class="MsoNormal">Last Sunday night I start writing a post about my dad for Father’s Day and I couldn't quite bring myself to finish it. I have a lot of “feels” happening right now in terms of our relationship and part of it is I know that I have some unresolved issues there. As I’m sure most of you readers know or have assessed, my parents are divorced. In most of my posts about my parents, I really only talk about the good things – and there are a lot of great memories and experiences I've shared with them – but the truth of the matter is a lot of it wasn't so magical. There were times of music and levity and comical road trips and holiday movie marathons. But there was also a lot of fighting and a lot of my father not being around, especially during my teenage years. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Let me back up a bit and give a little background into my father, if you’ll indulge me. My dad grew up in rural Louisiana, in his younger days – before experiencing his own parental slit up (though I don’t think they ever officially got divorced). His parents had an incredibly volatile marriage and his father was prone to alcoholic-induced bouts of violence. His parents had met during a turbulent war time and like many couples of the time, got together probably too quickly – before really knowing each other – and had a baby (that never quite made it to term)/got married. My grandfather got injured during WWII – a topic he did not like to discuss – and when he was sent back home, he wasn't the same jovial, loving person my grandmother had fallen head over heels for. He was angry a lot and, as cliche as this may sound, haunted by things he had seen while he was stationed in Tunisia. I cannot even imagine what this must have been like for him – understanding, in a way I would never know, the horrors that humans are capable of inflicting on one another. Today, it would be clear to anyone that he was living with PTSD but in 1943 he was expected to just go home and continue on with the status quo and pretend that everything was fine.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">This resulted in years of night terrors, violence, and drunken benders. I think, however, the worst part, is that some rare days he would show glimmers of his old self. He’d play some old tunes on the phonograph and dance with my grandmother just because. He’d pick her daisies. He’d take her on a road trip to New Orleans and treat her to a nice dinner. It didn't happen often but it happened often enough that she really thought maybe <i>maybe </i>they had a chance and he could be whole again. When she got pregnant again, this time with my father, she thought that this would be enough to inspire my grandfather into staying happy and healthy. Unfortunately, that’s not how PTSD works – it doesn't just get better on its own. So their family was ultimately doomed to crash and burn.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Anyway, fast forward – by the time my dad was five or six, his father’s bouts of “good days” had disappeared entirely. He was frequently abusive, both physically and verbally – and never, not in all his 82 years, did he ever acknowledge the permanent damage he inflicted on my dad. When my dad was 12 years old, my grandmother decided she’d had enough. She had a bruised eye and a sprained wrist and she was afraid that next time he would kill her or my dad. So she packed a suit case, got together every last dime she had, and in the blistering heat of the summer of 1960, she and my dad got onto a bus and traveled all the way to Sandwich, Massachusetts – where her sisters lived, cleaning houses for the upper crust of Cape Cod. She worked 5 jobs in order to take care of my dad and struggled and sacrificed so my dad, feeling like he was a burden, enlisted in the Navy the second he was of age so that he could stand on his own two feet. And through the Navy, when he ended up on leave in Rome (years later, obviously), he met my mom. Talk about history repeating itself, am I right? Another whirlwind romance, another unhappy marriage.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I know this story is getting super long now and you probably want me to get to my point. So I’ll make it: my dad grew up with only one true goal in life – to not become his father. To some people, that would mean that they would try to be the very best father figure they could be. To my dad, who never really wanted to be a parent because he was so afraid of how terrible he would be at it, his solution was to NOT be a father figure at all – but to be best buddies with his children. It seemed fun when I was a kid – he let me live in a tent in the back yard for an entire summer, he let me watch whatever I wanted on TV (no matter how graphic), he’d take me on trips to Tijuana, he would sneak me into concerts when I was like thirteen… he encouraged every single indulgence I had, every single one, always. And while I do think that parents should let their kids make mistakes and live and learn through them, he had almost a pathological aversion to refusing us ANYTHING, regardless of how dangerous it may be. My brother once “borrowed” the car when he was 15 (well before he had a driver’s license) and was pulled over by the cops. When he was returned to our house, my dad was very “boys will be boys” about it despite the fact that the cop told him he was pulled over because he almost hit a person in the crosswalk because he was going too fast and panicked and almost didn't stop in time. My dad laughed it off, as usual.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Also, my dad was gone a lot. He traveled all the time and when he was home, he preferred to spend his time at the office or going on hunting trips with his buddies. It was one of the biggest things my parents fought about. To my dad, however, he wasn't yelling or hitting us so he was succeeding as a parent. In my teen years, I started to resent him for it. My parents had divorced and he wasn't interested in sticking around to deal with the fallout so he moved back to California (we were in VA at this time) and there was a solid two years of radio silence, except for the occasional birthday card/check. I had a lot of anger about that time and it’s nothing we ever discussed. I came to terms with it through therapy and just… accepting that our parents are people too and they screw up and while I wish things had been different, life isn't perfect. When I got older, he would tell me how he would have done some things differently but when a parent acknowledges how they’d screwed up where you were concerned, it’s hard to really convey to them what it was like for you.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">But, even so… there are things that I’ve always wanted to talk to him about, even if it’s just to let him know that I understand why he was the way that he was when I was growing up and while it makes me sad, I’m okay and he’s okay and he’s still my hero and always will be. He is a person that grew up with so much adversity and he pulled himself up out of nothing and he joined the Navy, put himself through law school, and started his own practice. He taught me the power of self-reliance and resilience. He didn't support every single decision I ever made, but he supported my right to make my own choices every time. He showed me what it meant to be independent. I put myself through college and learned how to support myself without any real financial backing from him (or either of my parents, really) and it has been really hard but thank God for it because I wouldn't be the person I am today otherwise.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I guess I’m not sure exactly what I’m trying to say. My intention isn't to paint an ugly portrait of my father – mostly to show him as a whole person, who had faults and weaknesses like anyone else. He is an amazing person but he is also a person who was screwed up by some things growing up and never really shook it off. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">That being said, over Father’s Day week, I did a list of songs that reminded me of my dad. &nbsp;I stopped midweek not because I forgot or lost interest…. but I was concerned that I was giving everyone an unrealistic depiction of my dad. Saying bad things about him at this juncture is pointless but I don’t think it’s doing a favor to anyone by acting like growing up with him was nothing but Cosby Show-esque larks. Also, creating the list was getting harder and harder the closer I came to Father’s Day…. but I think it’s important for me to finish this, for better or worse. So without further ado: <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Day #5:<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://youtu.be/SgnPK94olGg" target="_blank">“Today I Sing the Blues” by Aretha Franklin</a>: This was chosen because it was a song that my mother listened to a lot whenever she and my dad were fighting. I get that from her – feeling my sadness at its fullness through music. Anyway, I knew whenever I heard that song that my dad would be gone for a few days. Towards the end of their marriage, during my 13<sup>th</sup> and 14<sup>th</sup>years, I heard this song a lot. I remember very distinctly the last time I ever heard this song. My parents had a particularly big row in the backyard and my dad, who to this day probably doesn't realize I was awake and could hear every word, said to my mom, “You make me feel like I’m a prisoner in my own life.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">And when he left the house, storming away from his prison, my mom went to her room and played this song just one time and I never heard her play it again.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">It should probably be said that my dad saying those words stuck with me for a very long time. Again, I’m not trying to paint him as a villain, but there’s a reason why I gravitate towards shows like Mad Men and books like Revolutionary Road so deeply – because I feel like they give me insight into my father that has been hard for me to pick up on my own.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Day #6:<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://youtu.be/D1ZYhVpdXbQ" target="_blank">“Singin’ in the Rain” by Gene Kelly</a>: Now this song is my happy song. It’s a lot of people’s happy song, actually. And while, yes, it does make me happy… I also recall that it is the song that I was listening to when my dad called me to tell me that his father had passed away – of cancer (surprise surprise) of the lungs. My dad, at the end, had tried to find peace with his father and never quite found closure. I was living in New Mexico at the time and it was a very… difficult conversation. I remember every word of that conversation: he said, “He’s gone, Natacia. My dad’s gone.” I had never heard him sound like such a kid and never did again. We chatted briefly about how I was going to come out to New Orleans (where my Grandpa was living when he passed away) and I’d help him with funeral arrangements – though my mother, who actually came all the way out from Italy, decided to take the brunt of that responsibility (their relationship was complicated). At the end of the conversation, my dad was almost laughing when he remarked, “Old coot had to hurt me just one list time, didn’t he?” Nothing my father has ever said pained my heart as much as that did. Nothing. And sadly, part of me always thinks of that whenever I hear “Singin’ in the Rain.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Day #7:<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">And for my Father’s Day selection… <a href="http://youtu.be/k1cF3NwI6rA" target="_blank">“Christmas (Baby PleaseCome Home)” by Southside Johnny Lyons</a>: Here’s the thing. Christmas was a big deal in my family. A really really&nbsp; big deal. We barely acknowledged birthdays or any other holiday. Growing up, my mom had a very strict household (I can’t even get into all the things screwed up about her relationship with her own parents, that’s its own blog post) but Christmas the one time a year that joy was overflowing in her family’s home. My dad, on the other end, had mostly bad memories of Christmas growing up. His father was always particularly agitated when the holidays came around and even after they left him, his mother was often working too much to actually spend much time with him. (Not to mention the one Christmas my mom sent my father to stay with his father over the holidays, after the separation, and my father left my dad alone on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to go on a fishing trip with his buddies. My dad was utterly alone, in a relatively unfamiliar place, and the only food he had to eat was stale bread and eggs. Happy Holidays, one and all!)<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Anyway, one of our regular Christmas movies to watch while growing up was Home Alone. This was my dad’s favorite to watch (until the year that it was banned from rotation due to the 1994 year of watching it every single day during winter vacation) and he even bought the soundtrack on tape and would play it often over the holidays during dinner or while putting up decorations. Then our old tape deck, much like the bit in How I Met Your Mother, wouldn't spit it out and would play “Please Come Home for Christmas” repeatedly. It drove my mom C-R-A-Z-Y but my dad seemed to never get sick of it. One of the best years of my childhood was 1992 and that Christmas was one of the best. My parents were still in denial about the problems in their relationship or at least hadn't realized how deep their problems were – and my dad worshiped the ground I walked on. That Christmas, he danced with us a lot. He didn't disappear with his drinking buddies. He didn't make excuses about needing to work late. He cherished every moment with us. One Sunday morning when we were listening to the soundtrack again, after church, my mom begged my dad to just put in a record – anything other than that song – so he turned it off and pulled my mom away from the omelets she was trying to make. He told her that if this was the worst thing she had to deal with then they had a pretty great life and then he started singing “Please Come Home for Christmas” as they danced in the kitchen and my brother was complaining how his eggs were getting burned.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s a bittersweet memory because while that was wonderful and I was so lucky to have such a wonderful Christmas with such a wonderful family… it was the last year I truly felt the magic of the season. I love Christmas very much but every year after that was harder and harder because my parents’ marriage slowly deteriorated until it finally imploded. Every year, I feel like part of me keeps trying to recreate the magic from that one Christmas even though I know it’ll never happen again. I know it’s better to look forward rather than stay locked in the past but sometimes it’s harder than you’d expect.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal">So yes – I will take the good with the bad. Because, as I like to say, a person is more than the worst thing that they've ever done… and all people are capable of wonderful and terrible things. It’s about degrees, I suppose, and all things considered, I still think I was pretty lucky. And perhaps I’ll never receive the exact type of closure I've wanted, a part of life is acceptance and I think I’m getting there – slowly but surely.<o:p></o:p></div>Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-23853456023741830662014-06-03T13:31:00.000-07:002014-06-03T13:31:38.252-07:00Making Life Wonderful: The Bailey Effect<div class="MsoNormal">Over the last few months, I've discovered a few things about myself:</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><ol><li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I’m a bit more prone to body hate than I would like. But I’m trying to be better about loving myself.&nbsp;</span></li><li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I've&nbsp;become more and more introverted – or at least, I find more joy out of one-on-one experiences and nights in with a small group of close friends than going out on the town with big groups for crazy adventures.&nbsp;</span></li><li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I don’t read enough anymore – I average maybe one or two books a month and that realization has made me very sad. And really, the books I am reading&nbsp;aren't&nbsp;exactly modern classics.&nbsp;</span></li><li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I think I may officially be done with cigarettes, even at my drunkest moments, as they only serve to make me physically ill. Which I guess is good but odd.&nbsp;</span></li><li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">While I love learning and schooling more than works can say…&nbsp;I've&nbsp;become less and less career-focused&nbsp;and more focused on what I can do in my community and what I can take away from my classes. I no longer care about “moving up” or getting more money because whenever I have made decisions based on those desires, things have always gone downhill for me in some way.</span></li></ol><br /><div class="MsoNormal">None of this is ground breaking information, I guess, but it goes to show how people are constantly changing and how we’re constantly learning more things about ourselves. Every time someone asks me what I plan to get out of school, I feel like my answer changes a little bit more each time and now I can honestly say that it’s not career-motivated at all because I don’t think I really care about that anymore. To the average person, that probably sounds ridiculous. Why would one go through this much schooling if it didn't impact their career? It’s a valid question and I get why one would find it a waste of time. But the act of learning and growing as a human being is where I’m see the value. And I’m finding more and more that I see the value of life outside of the office and I care less and less about the “daily grind” that I have to go through to get a pay check. That isn't to say that I don’t care about a decent work ethic – I still believe in putting my all into whatever project falls in my lap. It’s just… life is so big and so short that getting emotional and drained by the portion of it that matters the least seems so backwards. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I guess these are the sort of things I think about when there’s personal crises in my life. It really puts things in perspective. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">The truth of it: as lame and obvious as this may sound, I’m really embracing the idea that life is about the journey and not about the end result. My whole life, I've been chasing things and never finding the happiness in it that I've expected:</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><ol><li><span style="font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Get a great GPA and go to a good school.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;</span></li><li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Graduate from said school and move onto a job.&nbsp;</span></li><li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Get the job and make money enough to own your place (though I never quite made it there).</span></li></ol><br /><div class="MsoNormal">I've been so laser focused on doing well not because I should just… want to succeed but because it was constantly leading to the next step. And that step leads to the next step and that one leads to the next step and the process never ends until… <i>I die</i>? What the fuck?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">School has been great because it forces me to push my mind to places that stay dormant otherwise. Spending time with my close knit group of friends is wonderful because they both force me to question ideas that I've been holding onto for most of my life and to just shut off my brain and live in the moment and LAUGH. My family has been wonderful at keeping me grounded and telling me what I need to hear even when I don’t want to hear it – and you really need those kinds of people in your life sometimes. Volunteering has really forced me to understand the value of our community and being involved in it and also that the world is bigger than our own personal trials and tribulations (though we shouldn't take this to me we’re not allowed to own our pain as well).<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">My job has really just come a place where I need to get things done for a few hours out of my day so that I can afford to do the things above that I actually care about.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal">I’m never going to be a wealthy person. I’m always going to be scrambling by, perhaps. And you know what? That’s OK because I plan on filling my life with the things that really matter. I think after years and years and years of watching/loving/obsessing over It’s A Wonderful Life, the message is finally starting to sink in. Call me “Ms. Bailey” because I’m reworking my priorities and feeling pretty good about it.<o:p></o:p></div>Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-7987850178973826602014-05-19T06:09:00.000-07:002014-05-19T06:09:45.742-07:00Body Loathing and AcceptanceI have a very honest and embarrassing admission to make, you guys. And I felt like it's one that actually requires the rare blog post:<br /><br />I hate my body.<br /><br />Now, admitting this is hard for several reasons. Reason #1: I already make a big deal about how pro female empowerment I am and how much I'm against distorted female body images in mainstream media. Reason #2: Two years ago, I was very much on a very healthy path as far as having a strong exercise routine and great food habits and this has completely been thrown away over the course of this past year and it makes me feel like a failure. Reason #3: This has all resulted in igniting my previously dormant body-related depression that I thought I had overcome a decade ago.<br /><br />This disgust that has grown inside of me and, until recently, has been one I've been able to poke fun at. I see the rolls and flab that have appeared on my body and I've laughed about what a "fat ass" I am and follow it up by eating a plate of nachos. I say things like, "Yep! Still single!" because clearly the reason is because no guy would want someone who looks like how I look in a swimsuit... and so I go to the local pub and get an order of wings. I have a hard day at work and feel like I'm not where I want to be in my life and I change into a pair of sweat pants as soon as I get home and I feel disgusting and decide why not have a pint of gelato for dinner? I post on Facebook about it and make myself a punchline and everyone laughs with me and it seems like it's OK because at least I have a sense of humor about it.<br /><br />But the truth is I don't find it funny. Over the last couple of months, especially, I've been less willing to poke fun and more prone to laying in bed wondering if I'll always hate myself this much.<br /><br />Every once in a while I'll tell my friends or family how I feel (though I won't go as far as using the "H" word) and they'll say things like, "Shut up! You look amazing!" or "You have a great figure!" You know, something like that. But then I look at them and all I can see is how great they look and it makes me feel like a charity case somehow. Because the truth is... and this is something I've said recently in regards to something else entirely but it still applies... no one can make you feel worthwhile. You have to be willing to feel that way about yourself and the awful truth is I don't know how to get back to that place again.<br /><br />Now, part of the problem is I have other things going on in my life right now and one way I've always found comfort is by eating. But that's a dangerous path because while eating ten Oreo cookies may feel amazing while I'm doing it, it only leads to feelings of self-loathing which then.... causes me to eat more and the spiral goes on forever.<br /><br />I would also like to acknowledge that intellectually I understand that I am not actually "fat" - or what our society generally considers "fat." I'm about 5'2 and I weigh around 130 lbs. That's pretty average. Also, being that I live in a city, I walk quite a bit (not to mention that I go on adventures with my dog fairly often) and I'm a regular member of Washington Sports Club and I take archery classes out in Bethesda... so I'm pretty active. Hating my body isn't about just looking at myself and telling myself I'm fine. I can do that all day everyday but if I can't allow myself to believe it, it doesn't matter.<br /><br />So recently I decided that maybe if I really take care of my body, everything would turn around. I've been making my own food more often, eating more salads, running in the mornings before work, signing up for more classes at the gym. Granted, I've only started doing this over the last couple of weeks (prompted, I'll admit, by the dreaded bathing suit season) but for the most part this has done little for my self esteem and more for making me see how little progress I'm actually making and giving me more reason to be disappointed in myself whenever I slip up and eat a cookie.<br /><br />Then last week, I found two things on the internet: an <a href="http://www.glamour.com/entertainment/2014/05/sarah-silverman-funny-advice-for-being-a-woman">article</a> by Sarah Silverman in Glamour Magazine about women needing to shut the fuck up and love themselves and an amazing <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/05/14/embrace-taryn-brumfitt_n_5318178.html?ncid=fcbklnkushpmg00000046">Huff Post articles/video</a> about a woman making a documentary on the hate women feel about their bodies because of the pressure society puts on them. Neither of these things are ground breaking but I was in a place where I really really needed to hear these things and I didn't even realize how much so. I was feeling pretty defeated but seeing these things really made me feel less alone at a time where my self-loathing was making me feel kind of isolated and ashamed.<br /><br />Now I'm not going to say that some miracle has happened and I woke up today and looked in the mirror and suddenly saw a goddess. However, I'm feeling less angry at myself and more focused on other things. This isn't to say that I don't care about eating healthy or exercising anymore.... I'm just feeling a little less desperate about it and that's one step in the right direction. Hopefully, I can look at myself one day and see myself the way I see the people I love (as beautiful and courageous) and I'll care less about how slim I look in whatever new dress I've bought myself because life is too short to be obsessed about how Hollywood and Vogue Magazine is telling you to look. The Powers That Be gave me some curves and some would consider that a gift! And as Sarah Silverman says, "<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">If we were half as nice to ourselves as we are to any fucking stranger on the street, we'd be winning."</span>Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-15995995438023083282013-12-27T12:04:00.001-08:002013-12-27T12:04:53.148-08:00Musical Musings: Best of 2013<div class="MsoNormal">The biggest advantage to being housebound for many many days over the holiday season is having a lot of time to explore every facet of the internet – and one of my favorite things to do on the internet around this time of year is looking at “best of” music lists. It’s always a catch-22 because while I absolutely love looking at other people/magazine/websites’ top lists, I always get infuriated with them too (like Pitchfork, who gave KANYE WEST the honor of best album of the year because they’re hacks).<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Anyway, exploring all these lists always inspires me to create a top 100 playlist of my personal favorite songs of the year (which is hard because it’s difficult to keep it down to ONLY 100) but this year I decided to challenge myself further. Instead of just doing a crazy playlist (which you can check out on Spotify, if you’d like), I am forcing myself to bring it down to just 25! I attempted a top 10 but it was impossible. How do people even do that? <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I genuinely love every single song on this list. Yes, Justin Timberlake is on this there, OBVIOUSLY and yes, so is Jay Z and Drake. But there’s also Daft Punk, Janelle Monae and Atoms for Peace. Hopefully you’ll find something on here that you discover and say, “Hey ain’t too shabby” or maybe you had already considered some of these tracks for your own favorite of 2013. I tried to keep it pretty diverse and I don’t think there are toooo many surprised in here for those of you who know me fairly well.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">So let’s get on with it, shall we?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><ol><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DpVfF4U75B8">Atoms for Peace, “Ingenue”</a>:&nbsp;I could go on and on for days about how good this album was. Definitely my favorite for the year (or at least tied with Daft Punk and Foxygen). But this track in particular hooked me, right from the get go. Stays with you and every time I hear it, I’m almost hearing it for the first time.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WmJyQ5cd10U">Irene Diaz, “I Love You Madly”</a>:&nbsp;Stripped down and gorgeous. Sometimes the best songs are nothing more than the right voice and a guitar. And this song is so so right.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74-iyAoMa6Y">Eleanor Friedberger, “Stare At the Sun”</a>:&nbsp;I am obsessed with this woman’s voice. It’s so unique and strange and beautiful and every once in a while, the perfect song really brings out everything that’s great about it. I want more solo albums from her.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmRI3Ew4BvA">Yeah Yeah Yeahs, “Sacrilege”</a>:&nbsp;Another lady voice I’m obsessed with. Karen O is a BEAST with that wail of hers. But I love when it’s turned ethereal, like in this song, and you feel like you’re transported to a tribal world. Her voice belongs in another era.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KtdWGGpvY1s">Foxygen, “San Francisco”</a>:&nbsp;I cannot even tell you how hard it was to pick just one song off of this album. Foxygen is currently my favorite “up and coming” band and I really hope to see them live one of these days. I almost picked “In the Darkness” (which stayed in my head for months, after seeing Drinking Buddies) but “San Francisco” is the most infectiously 60s pop-like single off of this very retro album so I had to pick it.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tEddixS-UoU">Janelle Monae &amp; Erikah Badu, “Q.U.E.E.N.”</a>:&nbsp;Personally I think Erikah Badu is crazy but man that loony lady can saaaaaang. The combination of her and Janelle (whose latest album is GORGEOUS) is just unstoppable.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a5uQMwRMHcs">Daft Punk, “Instant Crush”</a>:&nbsp;I feel bad that I put this all the way down in the 7<sup>th</sup>spot. I really do. While I had my doubts about this Daft Punk album at first (mainly because people wouldn’t shut up about it for months), it grew on me over time until suddenly it was on my regular rotation and I’d find myself dancing alone to it in my apartment (or, y’know, my office) all the time. I know I probably should pick “Get Lucky” (and hell, I almost did because I love that song no matter how overplayed it is) but this is actually the first song off of this album to make me go, “Hey wait a minute now, there’s something here!” &nbsp;&nbsp;</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6p6PcFFUm5I">James Blake, “Retrograde”</a>:&nbsp;I’m not convinced that James Blake isn’t a ghost. His music is not of this earth, I swear. But none the less, I actually believe that this is his best single yet. Sultry as usual with a somewhat harder edge than his music typically has.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gxFYkoAFZAY">Charles Bradley, “Victim of Love”</a>:&nbsp;My old soul flutters when I hear this song. I love me some Charles Bradley. Who knew that a guy who started off as a James Brown impersonator could make his very own awesome imprint on the musical world?</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JyqemIbjcfg">CHVRCHES, “Recover”</a>:&nbsp;Let’s all be honest. This band/song was this year’s indie (read: hipster) darling. I admit it. But I don’t care because this song is just so infectious that it deserves the attention.</li><li><a href="https://soundcloud.com/brainfeeder/thundercat-oh-sheit-its-x">Thundercat, “Oh Sheit It's X"</a>:&nbsp;Usually not my type of jam but it’s so funky and retro. It makes me want to put on a pair of platform shoes, get an afro wig, and bust a move. Admit it… you’re listening to this right now and wanting to do the same exact thing.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GxgqpCdOKak">Drake, “Hold On, We’re Going Home”</a>:&nbsp;Even I cannot believe I picked a song by Drake for my top 25 list. But like so many other songs on this list, it’s totally from another era. While “Oh Sheit It’s X” makes me want to bring out the platform shoes, “Hold On, We’re Going Home” makes me want to invade the 1980s club scene. Also this music video takes me back to a time when music videos were elaborate stories and not just big booty dancers or bearded hipsters crying into a camera. I mean the music doesn’t even start until minute 2:35 and I love it.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TffpkE2GU4">Haim, “The Wire”</a>:&nbsp;I was embarrassingly late in discovering this band. But better late than never! I dare you to listen to this song and not at least bop your head. If you manage to resist, you are a cyborg. Sorry you had to find out this way.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aEIg0h-KU8o">Jay Z, “Picasso Baby”</a>:&nbsp;I know I have a double standard. I don’t care for Kanye (though, truth be told, I don’t think he’s untalented; I just hate his verbal diarrhea). I loathe Beyonce. But man, do I love me some Jay Z. I always have and I always will. I can’t even really explain it. A lot of things I hate about Kanye are character traits that Jay Z has. Same with Beyonce. And yet, here we are – with me loving this track to death, right down to the lyrics, “I’m the modern day Pablo Picasso, baby.”</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tgUCelKKqgo">Justin Timberlake, “Pusher Love Girl”</a>:&nbsp;Guuuurl. I love this man. I still hate Jessica Biel for crushing my dreams. But honesty time? I wasn’t crazy about this album. It’s grown on me but this is one of the few tracks off the album that I have consistently loved from the first moment I heard it. I keep daydreaming that Justin is singing it to me, hrrrmmmmm…. Ahem. Yes. It’s a good track.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Py2KOyrtq6o">Yo La Tengo, “Ohm”</a>:&nbsp;More honesty? I didn’t even know they came out with a new album until like two weeks ago. Pretty sure it came out like 5 months ago. Pretty sure every music magazine made a big deal about it. I felt a little like Donna Noble when one of my nerdy music buddies mentioned it to me – all “Huh? What?” And yes, I just made a Doctor Who reference. Get over it. But back to YLT! Great album (as usual) and this is my favorite track off of it.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0Ji2sxk0Uc">TV On the Radio, “Mercy”</a>:&nbsp;Oh, TV On the Radio. AKA the Ol’ Reliables. They are just consistently great and this track does not let me down. I’ll say that it’s probably one of their more accessible songs – far more palatable than some of their more static, experimental ventures – but still has the same level of mania their music always has. I just want to crowd surf when I listen to one of their albums.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcdOLKx2XG8">Phosphorescent, “Song for Zula”</a>:&nbsp;What genre is this? Folk soul? Is that a thing? Because it should be, because it’s fantastic. The shout out to Johnny Cash doesn’t hurt either. I originally had this track at the #20 spot but decided to bump it up a few notches.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iy1fSP_PLYA">Alice Smith, “Shot”</a>:&nbsp;I read a review of Alice Smith’s album She that sums up everything for me: this is basically what would happen if Fiona Apple decided to put together a string of afro-funk songs. This song in particular has some great hooks and a truly fantastic groove.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bkk2H3Ztrfk">Disclosure &amp; AlunaGeorge, “White Noise”</a>:&nbsp;A club favorite of mine. I mean, I don’t go to many clubs, but I imagine this song would play at a lot of the types of clubs I’d frequent if I was the type to… y’know, go clubbing. I like Disclosure but I love love love AlunaGeorge. Her voice loans the right amount of emotional depth and power to this already very danceable track. Great stuff.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WF34N4gJAKE">Bonobo, “Cirrus”</a>:&nbsp;Jazzy and fun. A song not afraid to be filled with joy. Fantastic beats. Great arrangement. Only reason why it’s not higher on my list is because it’s not really my breed of music so I have to be in the right mood for it. But man, when I am – blamo! My dancing feet take over.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dwn4tK5ySNU">Beck, “Gimme”</a>:&nbsp;My favorite of the three standalone singles he released this year. One of his techier, more experimental sounding tracks of late while still managing to keep a consistent melody and an interesting arrangement. That man proves over and over that he knows what he’s doing in the music department.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bd0K76H7sU8">Kurt Vile, “Wakin on a Pretty Day”</a>:&nbsp;Lovely and languid. A breath of fresh air. Contemplative without overthinking it. Just a simple, beautiful song. Another favorite album of mine, by the way.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Np_aWvxc8vQ">Thao &amp; The Get Down Stay Down, “We the Common People (For Valerie Bolden)”</a>:&nbsp;Playfully political. Happily bleak. A real toe tapper about the bullshit we surround ourselves in. I heart everything about this song.</li><li><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZuRaETs7ti4">Ariana Grande, “Honeymoon Avenue”</a>:&nbsp;I adore this song for being such a throwback to 90s pop soul. Like Monica could have sung this, or Brandy – or hey, I’ll be honest, Mariah Carey. And hate all you want, but this song reminds me of listening to the radio on my bedroom floor with my cassette player and attempting to record my favorite hits off of whatever Top 40 station I was obsessed with at the time (probably 93.3 – San Diego’s most Top 40est station there is). This song makes me wants to think about my 8<sup>th</sup> grade boyfriend and practicing cheerleading moves with my junior high besties and rolling skating on the pier. Nostalgia is a powerful drug, my friends, and this track is chock full of it.</li></ol><o:p></o:p><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; 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margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">Any tracks you totally disagree with? Anything you would add? Let’s dish!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></div>Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-31221676302580657502013-10-29T06:35:00.001-07:002013-10-29T06:42:20.416-07:00Lou Reed: You Just Keep Me Hangin' On<br />Have you ever had SO many things that you wanted to blog about that you don't even know which one to start with? I considered giving yet another update on my life and how my family is holding up. I considered posting about my recent holiday blues. I considered posting about all the crock pot successes (and failures) I've had in the last month or so. I considered posting about a recent<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/robin-lustig/russell-brand-not-only-dangerous_b_4155341.html"> Huffington Post article</a> I read about Russell Brand that I have quite a lot to say about (and will touch on for certain another time). But eventually the topic that won out for me... Lou Reed and his recent death.<br /><br />Before I go on what will surely be the sickest, most gush-tastic post on how much this man has influenced my extreme love of rock 'n' roll, I want to say that Lou Reed was not only a great artist. In a lot of ways, he has shaped how I look at music and how I connect to it. I know in the grand scheme of things, especially given the crap year that I've had, this probably shouldn't shatter me as much as it has but few artists have truly touched me as much as he has.<br /><br />Now, onto the really gushy shit. I'd stop reading now if you don't think you can handle it.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-42WGtNrFROU/Um-3nvMXlvI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/p947e0WxZkQ/s1600/Velvet-Underground-White-Light--Whit-405110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-42WGtNrFROU/Um-3nvMXlvI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/p947e0WxZkQ/s1600/Velvet-Underground-White-Light--Whit-405110.jpg" height="190" width="200" /></a></div>To explain why I love Lou Reed so much, I think I should start by saying that <i>White Light/White Heat</i> was the first tape I ever stole from my oldest brother Patrick, whose musical choices were worshiped by me at a very young age. Now like all music nerds and Velvet Underground lovers, I grew to kind of romanticize this album, but if I have to be completely honest, I didn't love it at first. It's fairly experimental and I was eleven years old when I swiped it. I'd like to sit here and say that even at eleven, I was so much of a music snob that I could appreciate a song like "The Gift" (which, if you are unfamiliar with it, is a tale of promiscuity, jealousy, and a tragic death).... but let's be serious. I was still pretty much obsessed with Madonna and The Bangles at that time and <i>WL/WH</i> isn't exactly the best transitional or accessible album to pick up for a young kiddo.<br /><br />However, that being said, I became hopelessly obsessed with "Here She Comes Now". I would play it over and over again. Years later, when I'd make mixed tapes for prospective boyfriends and best friends and well, any goddamn person who would let me, it was a song I pretty much always included in there (even though its meaning is relatively ambiguous), regardless of the theme of the mix or why I was making it. When I was in college and a member of what was probably the worst chick band to ever exist on this planet, the first song I ever wanted to learn (well, after "Hey Jude") was "Here She Comes Now". To this day, it's still one of my favorite songs. And as the years of me listening to that song went by, I listened to the whole album as well, many times, until one day I realized how much I had grown to love the whole thing. I don't even know when it happened. But one day, when I was like fourteen years old, I was listening to"Sister Ray" when no one else was home. I turned that sucker up as loud as I wanted and bounced on and around my bed like a maniac for fifteen crazed euphoric minutes, knocking over a lamp and banging my knee on my nightstand. That's what Lou Reed did - he made you feel the music in your gut, in your bones, in your toes, in your fucking blood until you have no choice but to fall into it. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dkbwKocZj5U/Um-4TWYFYmI/AAAAAAAAAIY/zbhJyW7PDK8/s1600/Lou_reed_berlin_live_cd_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dkbwKocZj5U/Um-4TWYFYmI/AAAAAAAAAIY/zbhJyW7PDK8/s1600/Lou_reed_berlin_live_cd_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>This was music that had no interest in being polished or studio perfect, in placating the masses. It was music that was only interested in making you get lost in it – or maybe even find yourself. But beyond that, it is music that made you realize that it can be more than some catchy tunes with a killer hook and a happy finish. Lou Reed said a lot of amazing things during the 71 years he graced us with his presence but one of the best things he ever said was, “I don’t believe in dressing up reality. I don’t believe in using makeup to make things look smoother.” He believed in getting dirty, expressing truth at all costs, and shoving those truths right in your face. He gave voice to people who were angry or sad or damaged and didn't know how to express it. He was one of music’s glam movement pioneers who gave a community of transgenders a place to fit in – not because it’s OK to be different but because it’s OK to be whoever the fuck you want to be, especially if you’re loud and real and throwing your proverbial (or not so proverbial) crotch at authority. He believed that every single goddamn second of life was important and meant something. He understood hopelessness but he didn't accept it as a reality that anyone needed to live. This all comes through in his music, in his voice, in his words, in his poetry.&nbsp;</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dkbwKocZj5U/Um-4TWYFYmI/AAAAAAAAAIY/zbhJyW7PDK8/s1600/Lou_reed_berlin_live_cd_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dkbwKocZj5U/Um-4TWYFYmI/AAAAAAAAAIY/zbhJyW7PDK8/s1600/Lou_reed_berlin_live_cd_cover.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><i>Transformer</i>is one of the most perfect albums ever recorded but for me, it was the rawness and pain and flawed beauty of <i>Berlin</i>that made me really see Lou Reed for the first time. I could go on and on about his&nbsp;time with the Velvet Underground – a band so important to the world of music, it practically birthed other legendary artists like the New York Dolls and the Pixies and Siouxsie and the Banshees and the Sex Pistols and the Stooges. However, when all is said and done, <i>Berlin</i> is and always will be Lou Reed’s masterpiece. After receiving some mainstream adoration for his hit single,&nbsp;“Walk on the Wild Side,” everyone expected him to take his new popularity and run with it. But Lou, as always, was never interested in creating music that was comfortable or expected. He wanted to bear his soul because that’s the only way to produce art that’s worth anything and he didn't care if it sounded pretty. And while Berlin was never quite appreciated in its time nor was it any sort of commercial achievement, I like to believe that he was always proud of what he created there – even though it’s widely known that the harsh reviews it received eventually took its toll on him. Yet, despite the years of under appreciation, Lou Reed was finally able to realize a dream and perform his masterpiece - his rock opera - the way he had always wanted: live and with an entire 30 piece band. I always wished I could have seen one of those shows.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">In the end, he was a man who lived hard for a lot of years and eventually realized how much he wanted to stay here, living and creating, for as long as possible. He probably lived longer than he ever thought he would or any of us believed – but that doesn't make his death any less heart wrenching. People get so lost in what they think they should do with their lives and then sometimes you run into a person who just opts to go out there and fucking do it. Really, it’s easy to convince ourselves that we’re not capable of doing this or smart enough to do that. It’s so easy to just get comfortable and put our dreams and desires on a shelf “for another day” even if that day never comes. But a person like Lou Reed can teach us all a lot of lessons about daring to be different, to be brave, and to be expressive. He understood the importance of literature and words but as a means to live, not as a means to escape – and I’m the sort of person who has always been far too comfortable with the concept of escaping from life. Listening to his music, even for a moment, challenges me to… challenge myself. And isn't that the testament of true art? I’ll always be grateful that he brought such diverse and emotionally complex music into my life and opened me up to a whole world of artists who would give me a swift kick in the ass, which is something I truly believe everyone needs from time to time. <br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal">And on that note, I’d like to close this post with my favorite song from <i>Berlin</i>, the closing song, which to me is also the quintessential Lou Reed creation – sad, tragic, pain stricken, challenging… the sort of song that gives you a sense of disquiet but somehow also provides a sense of therapeutic relief. It’s also appropriately named and expresses my current heart ache perfectly.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/kTrG9z2AWxQ?feature=player_embedded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></div><br />We love you, Lou. You better keep making waves where ever you are right now.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-71086338941326396412013-09-25T08:03:00.000-07:002013-09-25T08:04:01.365-07:00Love and Survival<div class="MsoNormal">Sometimes the best inspiration for writing a new blog post is reading another blog which hits you in all the right spots. This happened to me recently when a dear friend of mine wrote <a href="http://antesanddespues.wordpress.com/2013/09/25/marie-takes-on-30-one-of-my-favorite-responses/">this</a> and it really connected with me. The power of the written word is something else. I’ve been writing a lot lately, short stories and letters and journal entries. It’s been really therapeutic and while a lot of these things will probably never be shared with the general public (sorry, readers), they have really helped me to grasp some perspective about my life right now.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">The fact is this: I’ve been feeling fairly self-pitying lately but I’ve been trying to cover it up with a thin layer of bravado and comic relief. That’s kind of my MO – don’t feel things completely. Put on a happy face and shimmy around the house to some big band tunes and forget your woes. Buy things that make you happy (even if you can’t afford them). Watch a lot of TV and read a lot of books and get lost in the fantastical. Go for long walks on the beach with your dog – staying up late enough to see the sunrise and making sure you catch the sunset as well. Find complicated recipes to try out. Hang out with your friends and stay distracted – <i>always stay distracted</i>. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">But eventually… eventually you have to stop moving. Eventually you have to look life right in the face and deal with what it’s giving you. Eventually you have to stop the smiling and the laughing and the dancing and the strolling. Eventually you can’t run anymore. I’ve never been good at that bit – the stopping and the dealing. The consequences for this flaw are varied – but whatever the results have been, they’ve rarely been good. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">So here I am. Staring into the eye of the storm. Forcing myself to stop and letting it sweep me away. But really, who’s to say that’s a bad thing? <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m going to be really nerdy for a second but bear with me and I’ll try to make sense of it all.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Recently, as a means to distract myself (please note above section of post), I have been watching a lot of a little show you may have heard of – Doctor Who. I had never watched this show before now. I’d resisted it for a long time for a number of unimportant reasons but then finally decided to give it a chance because there were enough episodes to keep me occupied for a while and because it seemed like a complete farce and I am a huge fan of escapism, especially in times of distress. Now, that being said, I took to this show quickly and completely. At first I thought it was just because, as previously stated, I’m pretty nerdy and this sort of thing tends to appeal to me. I mean, two of my favorite shows in the world are Battlestar Galactica and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Doctor Who, I figured, should be right up my alley.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I breezed through the first four series (and I mean starting when it was brought back in 2005 – none of that crazy quirky overly British stuff from the 70s) and I was utterly captivated. Every episode kept me not only on the edge of my seat, but touched that part of me – the part I know that I get from my dad – with an itch to just…. fly away to somewhere new. (Also, David Tennant is a complete babe, so there’s that.)<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">However, the more I watched, the more I realized that there had to be something else that I was connecting to. I mean, I tend to get obsessed with shows sometimes for reasons no deeper than pure entertainment value (New Girl, I’m looking at you) but there was something different here. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it for a while but eventually it hit me: somewhere between the third and fourth series, I realized that the recurring theme of humanity’s continued crazy impossible absolutely mad ability to survive despite everything standing against them… there was something beautiful in that. Sometimes the need to survive brings out the worst in us – an ugly side that this show does not shy away from – but the instinct itself isn’t evil. It’s just who we are if you strip everything else away, if you break us down to the most basic part of ourselves. We survive when we shouldn’t. I think of things like the Crusades, the Holocaust, the atrocities in Sierra Leone, the Civil War – and it amazes me how despite everything that human beings are put through (and put themselves through), they just keep going. Isn’t that something? Isn’t that maddening? The resilience of the human spirit is probably the most awesome thing I can think of. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I suppose all this got me thinking about what it means to be human and the legacies that we leave behind. My mom has been emailing me a lot recently about our ancestors and our family’s history and it’s been great learning about my mom’s house (outside of Florence, in Stia) and how it was built by my ancestors in the early 1800s, by three brothers who had lost so much of their family and friends to the Black Death. They had survived but then what? What would be their mark in the world? That house – and after about two hundred years, it’s still standing. It’s still surviving. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">And really this all comes down to the one thing that keeps floating in my mind over the last couple of years: how do we continue to survive when our bodies give out on us, when our souls are gone? I guess I’m getting a little existential here; I hope you can forgive me. It’s hard not to get lost in spiritual complexities when death is literally following you everywhere you go. I just can’t help but wonder what it all means and how it all matters and if parts of ourselves really stay behind when we appear to vanish.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I have to be honest here and I hope that people don’t get terribly offended when I say this but I do think there is a good chunk of the population that wants to have kids because they feel like if they have a physical piece of themselves in the world, they’ve left a contribution that will continue through time forever. Something about that has always seemed kind of disturbing to me but I guess it just keeps going back to that natural instinct… to keep surviving in one way or another. But in what other ways can we do this, as a species, as communities, as soul-bearing vessels? I think it’s more than leaving patches of DNA behind. I think it’s the non-physical imprints that we leave behind that truly stand the test of time. That first smell of Autumn – like… woodchips and cinnamon… that smell will always make me think of fall trips to the Cape with my dad and collecting leaves of red and orange and my mom’s fresh baked biscotti with vanilla-laced hot chocolate. Otis Redding is wonderful in so many ways but I love him as much as I do partially because listening to his music takes me back to a time when my parents were happy and danced in the kitchen while my mom was baking ziti and filling the house with warmth. There are a million other examples and I guess my point is… we never really leave, not completely. Parts of us continue to survive, in the way that we love and care for each other and create memories even when we don’t even realize those memories are happening. Our ability to love – that’s what makes us amazing creatures. Love and survival and connecting to one another. Even when we’re gone, our imprints remain forever – it is borderline magical. It’s magnificent. It’s awe inspiring. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">And yes, my friends – these are thoughts that have come to me thanks to Doctor Who so I guess I owe the creators of that show a debt of gratitude!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal">Essentially, it’s nice to know that when our bodies go – as well as the bodies of our loved ones – and it feels like we have nothing left to hold on to… there are pieces that will stick around even if we can’t always feel it. Sometimes in tiny drops. Sometimes it’ll come in waves. But it’s always there, underneath the surface. So today, it’s okay to face the storm and feel the pain and the sorrow and the anger and the indignity of it all because who knows when the next wave of joy and beauty will overtake us? Could be tomorrow so we have to keep on moving until we meet that wave again – and survive another day, and maybe create a few more memories to leave behind. &nbsp;<o:p></o:p></div>Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-25251131844081111662013-08-26T14:19:00.002-07:002013-08-26T14:19:26.824-07:00Medicinal CinemaSpending time with someone who isn't able to speak (or easily communicate in any way) can be difficult. Throw into the mix that it's someone you love and you're used to being able to speak to about almost anything for hours on end... then there's a whole new level of melancholy. Partial paralysis takes out the option for playing cards or checkers. There are no karaoke nights in our horizon or drinks &amp; tamales at Ponce's. No late night strolls on the beach or Motown singalongs next to a roaring bonfire. No more surfing lessons or running around the backyard with Lee and a water hose (yes yes, I'm the meanest doggy owner/mom ever).<br /><br />There's just us and an ocean of silence that cannot be remedied. I come in with homemade pudding, with books to read my father while he rests (I've gotten halfway through the Adventures of Kavalier and Clay), with news about the Red Sox continuing to be awesome, with Miles Davis playing in the background as we take naps together. All of these things, however, on some level... I think they remind him of what he can't do. He can't feed himself. He can't play music anymore. And being read to? He's supposed to be the dad, not the child... Perhaps I was reading too much into it but it's clear that he is pained and I'm trying to find ways to show that he's not weak, he's not an invalid - that we all need help and we all need to lean on someone at one time or another. So I found the one thing my father and I have always shared, have always bonded over, have always loved: film.<br /><br />We have watched Goldfinger and Carmen Jones and Roman Holiday and His Girl Friday and one of my dad's personal favorites, In the Heat of the Night. Cary Grant was the first thing to make my dad smile since he's woken up - and maybe it was fleeting and maybe if I hadn't glanced at him at the exact right moment, I never would have seen it at all but it was there nonetheless.<br /><br />I've said it many times and I'll say it again: film has the ability to transform us, to shake us, to move us, to make us feel things that we need to feel. Film has always been one of those things I've turned to in dark times and good. Singing in the Rain? Breakfast at Tiffany's? Pretty much ANYTHING by Julie Andrews? Even The Sound of Music, which I admit became a lot less happy go lucky for me when I got older and realized what that movie was really about. Or - and I cannot stress enough in saying how much joy this movie has brought into my life over the years - The Princess Bride, the only flick in history to make this stone cold cynic honestly believe that maybe true love isn't the most lame sounding thing in the whole world.<br /><br />How can movies do that? How can they make me feel like life is okay when life itself is telling me something entirely different? How is it possible that after the horrific year - well, the last two years really - that I've had, watching Audrey Hepburn running through the rain, desperately searching for Cat, can make me cry tears of honest joy? How can I be laughing when my world is falling apart just because Dick Van Dyke is singing about chimneys? I am a strong believer in the idea of escapism, that's why. Sometimes it's all I have to keep on standing, to keep on hoping, to keep on breathing.<br /><br />When I was a kid, before I moved to the east coast and settled into life here and I was growing up in San Diego, I can fully admit that I didn't have a whole lot of friends. It wasn't really until I was twelve or so that I actually started socializing with kids my own age - playing little league baseball, joining the pep squad (yes, that knowledge is a freebie, enjoy it), and eventually trips to Fashion Valley and even to L.A. for late night flicks at the Cinerama on Sunset Blvd or Tijuana for weekend getaways (which were mostly just for the delicious food and inexpensive housing options). Before that time, it was just me and my movies - and my dad. My closet friends were Audrey Hepburn and Howard Hawks and Diane Keaton and Harrison Ford. They were my heroes, my trailblazers, my soul mates, my court jesters. My dad understood - it was the same for him - so I was happy to spend my weekends on the couch with him getting lost in another story, another world, another galaxy and we never needed to blather on and on about how these pictures made us feel because we just both<i> got it</i>. And I feel like only a special kind of person really gets it.<br /><br />Cinema is magic. That's all there is to it. It made a lonely little nine year old girl feel a little less alone in the world, even for a little while. And it has alleviated current tragic life circumstances enough to make my father smile for even half a second. How can you call that anything else but pure magic?<br /><br />Life is still turning. Things haven't changed. But at least I know that there will always be a place that my dad and I can go to where the sky isn't always falling and reality fades to black for at least a couple hours.Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-24313881232599740852013-08-25T08:43:00.002-07:002013-08-25T08:43:34.706-07:00Our WorthMary Oliver once wrote, about approaching death:<br /><br />"When it's over, I don't want to wonder<br />if I have made of my life something particular, and real<br /><br />I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,<br />or full of argument<br /><br />I don't want to end up simply having visited this world"<br /><br />How do any of us really know the impact that we have made? How do any of us know how much we really matter? It's all relative any way - our definitions on what makes one matter. I guess we all matter, we all make an impact - no one comes into this world and then leaves it without touching someone, somehow, for better or for worse.<br /><br />It's all the pressure we put on ourselves to accomplish this or accomplish that. Anyone who read my last blog post probably knows that I've been struggling with this - living a life that matters, living a life that's <i>mine</i>. I've fallen into this weird loop of living for everyone around me and not for myself. But I don't want to get into all that again. The thing is, now that I recognize that in myself, what's next?<br /><br />I am currently in the middle of watching a person I love fall out of this earth, losing his body to disease, and to say that this is the most painful time in my life would be beyond an understatement. To say that I'm in a bad place right now would be the same. But - I am surrounded by family, constantly receiving words of love and encouragement from friends and colleagues alike, and I have the California sunshine embracing me in its warmth. Pretty soon I will need a lot to heal - I am &nbsp;trying to prepare myself but really, you can never prepare for anything like this. However, it's good to know that when the darkest days arrive, when I'm in my worst moment, I will have people there ready to try and pull me out of it if I drift too far away.<br /><br />Is that the way you measure your worth? By the love you have gained and given? If so, I guess in one way, this year has been great - because it's helped me see that I do have a lot of love in my life, even though it doesn't feel that way most days.<br /><br />So what now? I'm sitting in limbo. I'm on the edge of something I can't speak out loud. I can see its face. I can hear its name. It's so close and I don't know how to make it go away - because there is no making it go away. You can't stop a storm. You can't stop the world from turning. It's what you do with the time you've got left - that's what it all comes down to. Thinking beyond this moment in time is too hard so simply being here and living is all we can do.Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-12679307594185519532013-07-29T05:05:00.001-07:002013-07-29T05:05:52.207-07:00The Thirty Spiral<div class="MsoNormal">Sometimes it’s weird when I think about the end of my 20s. Nineteen year old me steps outside of my body and looks at 29 year old me and it’s hard to believe I’m not that same kid who lived in a house with seven people, living off of spaghetti, cheap vodka, and Marlboro menthol lights. I journaled regularly, I traveled, I went to a different concert almost every night, and I was open to just about any new experience life threw at me. I was convinced that I was going to save the world. I knew where I was going, and I knew how I was gonna get there. Life was nothing but a series of open doors and it was up to me to decide which ones I wanted to walk through.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s ten years later, and if I have to be perfectly honest, I feel like most doors are being closed and locked and I’m just standing here without any keys. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I don’t want to get into all of my sorrows but I’ll say that this has been a troubling few months for me and it’s getting hard for me to stay focused on the things I want to do. I don’t volunteer much these days and I attribute that to a) my exhaustion and b) my lack of motivation for pretty much anything outside of trying to keep my head above water – which I kind of feel like I’m barely doing most days.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">And then there’s that 30<sup>th</sup> birthday looming over me. I never thought I’d be that person who wrapped up all my hopes and dreams in that stupid number. I never thought I’d care about turning 30 – it’s just a number, right? It doesn’t mean anything, does it?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I have a lot of friends who happen to be older than me and it’s difficult to communicate around them what it feels like for me, turning 30, because I feel like it’s just indulgent whining and it’s always met with, “30 is nothing!” or “You’re still young.” I suppose that’s all probably true, but the fact of the matter is, I wanted to be in a certain place by now. I admit it – I have targeted expectations for my life and I feel like I haven’t met them. Ten years ago, work was such a low priority for me. Not to say that I didn’t care about work – more like my focuses were firmly placed in enriching my everyday life with art and community activism and nature. And I’m so far away from all of that. I always believed that by this point in my life, I’d be living in some flat in a different country – probably Italy – with a not-too-stressful job, having casual dinner parties and regularly visiting vineyards in the countryside. Or at the very least, I thought I’d be on the West Coast, which I’ve always considered my real home, watching the sunset against the Pacific Ocean every night and going on weekend adventures to Mexico because why the hell not. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">My life looks very different than how I’d always imagined it but not completely unsatisfying. It’s the people I have in my life that make it worthwhile – work friends who are always down for happy hours &amp; roof top lunches filled with laughter; the Clacker folks who keep things interesting, always; Rachel, Jeff, and Mike, who I don’t get to see often but still my second family; the Club Dumas, who inspire me beyond all reason, even when they are not with me; and even my Virginia guys, who are all living their own separate lives in all different directions but still provide me without some of the best memories from my post-college days. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">The problem is… I’ve stopped and looked at my life and I feel like I am living it for all of these people and not for me. My life has become less about what I want to do with it and more about doing what’s best for those I love. There’s nothing wrong with that, theoretically, but I don’t even feel like I have a life of my own anymore. I’m a spectator, watching everyone else move forward, while I’m in the world’s longest rut, trapping myself in a world that I don’t truly want to be in. But what does one do when she need to make a drastic change in her life? I guess the answer would be to summon the bravery to take a risk.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">But would changing everything I know about my life really make me happy? What is happiness really? How does a person really achieve that? I don’t know the answers and so I’m stuck, just watching everyone – and I just keep wondering how does everyone have it figured out and I’m still flopping around, confused and scared? I’m not even content. I’m restless. I’m restless and bored and sick of sitting down – I want to jump on a plane and just take off, someplace, somewhere, sometime, without plans or itineraries. I want to wake up every morning knowing that I am doing exactly what I want to be doing and feeling so happy that I’m contributing something that matters to this society. I want to welcome art and music into my life – not to look at it and hear it, but really be immersed in it somehow. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">When did I stop being that person that took chances? I know that as an adult, you have to make sacrifices. You have responsibilities, and they are real and you have to reshape your life somewhat to meet them. I see friends with husbands and wives and mortgages and babies and I know that I don’t want those things because while I am so happy for them for having the things that make them feel complete, I honestly just see them as giant anchors taking away even more of my life choices. But then I get caught in a spiral – if I choose to turn my back on these things, what’s going to happen in another 30 years? I am probably about the most independent person there is, but I’m actually starting to wonder… when I’m old, and all of my friends are in their family bubbles, am I going to be sitting here, still alone? I hate myself for even caring about this. I hate myself for letting the fact that I’m turning 30 transform me into this person I’ve never been. But I can’t turn my thoughts off.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">The uncertainty in my family right now is also contributing to all of these fears and it’s also making me questions a lot of things in my own belief system. I have two strong feelings that are constantly fighting each other right now: living life to the fullest, because life is short versus what’s the point of it all? It’s playing a lot of crazy games in my head right now and it’s making me feel kind of like I’m going crazy. I wake up one day, thinking that I’m going to make the best of a horrible situation and the next day, it takes everything inside of me just to get out of bed and get through the day without crying every ten minutes.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Naturally, being me, I’ve decided to put all of my “feels” into a playlist because music has always ALWAYS been the one thing that I can count on to pull me out of the darkness. Music is the best therapist I’ve ever had. So, I pulled up my iTunes, and created a group of 30 songs (because I’m nerdy like that) which all represent a lot of what I’m going through right now and I’ve been listening to it a lot. I’ve also been reading some of my old journals and flipping through pictures from college and high school, considering that maybe there are pieces of younger me that I can still incorporate into 30 year old me’s life. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">For now, the journey continues, and I’ll try to get through it the best I can without losing the best parts of myself. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">And I suppose I’ll close with my “30 Songs for Turning 30” playlist, in no particular order:<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Under Pressure” by Queen &amp; David Bowie<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Forever Young” by Alphaville<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Hang On” by Dr. Dog<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Home” (from The Wiz) by Stephanie Mills<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“We Use to Wait” by Arcade Fire<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“A House Is Not a Home” by Field Music<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times” by The Beach Boys<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“God” by John Lennon<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“There’s Never Enough Time” by The Postal Service<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Where Have All the Good Times Gone” by David Bowie<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Shake It Out” by Florence + The Machine<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)” by Arcade Fire<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Beware of Darkness” by George Harrison<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Here Comes a Regular” by The Replacements<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Just Do You” by India.Arie<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“How It Ends” by Devotchka<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Light &amp; Day / Reach for the Sun” by The Polyphonic Spree<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Stand By Me” by Otis Redding<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“I’ve Gotta Be Me” by Sammy Davis, Jr.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Some Days Are Diamonds” as sung by Amos Lee<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“You Only Live Twice” by Nancy Sinatra<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” by Nina Simone<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Supply &amp; Demand” by Amos Lee<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Inner Revolution” by Adrian Belew<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“I Shall Be Released” as sung by Nina Simone<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“Hungry Heart” by Bruce Springsteen<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“That’s Life” by Frank Sinatra<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“This Is the Day” by The The<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“To Build a Home” bye The Cinematic Orchestra ft. Patrick Watson<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]-->“You Get What You Give” by New Radicals <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Much love,<o:p></o:p></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal">N<o:p></o:p></div>Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-17001645328848211922013-05-10T07:11:00.001-07:002013-05-10T07:11:30.051-07:00"Little Things Mean A Lot"Today's blog post is inspired by my beautiful, amazing friend Lindsay and her absolutely delightful blog&nbsp;<a href="http://randomactsofdrama.blogspot.com/">Smells Like Sunshine</a>&nbsp;(which, by the way, was nominated for an AWARD for how awesome it is).&nbsp;I don't post nearly enough and sometimes it's hard for me to come up with new and fresh topics. Part of the problem is that I write so much for work and now school again that when it comes time for "personal" writing, I go blank. What do I write that isn't just more of the same ol' same ol'... or even worse - and even more pathetically - what do I write when I'm pretty much not being told what to write? Yikes, amirite? What kind of journalism grad am I?<br /><br />But wonderful bloggers like Lindsay give me hope that maybe JUST MAYBE... I can keep this blog going. So that's what I'm going to do.<br /><br />As previously posted, most of my friends will be out of town this week. Plus I have limited funds anyway, which is why I opted not to go out of town this weekend with my friends. So this is going to be one of those weekends where I actually have very little distractions preventing me from doing the following:<br /><br />*Cleaning my apartment, which is a total sty<br />*Looking up fun new recipes to try (I've got a chicken summer salad that I am <i>dying</i> to make)<br />*Making a dent in one of the three books I'm reading right now (I swear I'm going to finish Dance With Dragons one of these days)<br />*Maybe visiting the record shop and get a couple of new goodies?? (I'm jonesing for some old folk albums because sunshine always puts me in the mood for some old fashioned folk. Margo Smith, anybody? I need some of her in my life right now.)<br />*Starting to set up my yardless backyard (with chairs, potted plants, hanging lamps!!!)<br />*Going on a journey around Meridian Hill Park with Lee and hoping that he doesn't steal anyone's lunch this time<br />*Taking myself to the movies - and yes, I will be seeing The Great Gatsby, duh<br /><br />My brother wanted me to come out to Woodbridge again to hang, but honestly I'm exhausted with making my lazy ass travel out to the boonies every weekend. So this is going to be the Weekend of Natacia (WoN) where I only do things that I want to do. I think I've earned it - classes have ended, I have no work to take home (knock on wood), and my family is currently enjoying a period of stability (GASP!) - and thus I am taking some time for me.<br /><br />Is it sad that I'm really really excited about cleaning my oven and folding my laundry? Yeah, probably.<br /><br />Oh, back to the Great Gatsby - words cannot convey how excited I am for that movie! Have I mentioned how much I love that book and how many times I've read it? But really, mention it because early this morning I was horrified to learn on Twitter that Levar Burton has NEVER READ IT. Mr. Reading Rainbow Himself has never read one of the greatest novels of our time?! Is anyone else horrified? I'm horrified. I think I may have to write a letter to him about this travesty. A tweet is not enough.<br /><br />....Though he did praise Carey Mulligan and since I have a huge girl crush on her, I mean, maybe I can forgive him or something.<br /><br />Still a travesty, though.<br /><br />Whew! Lindsay, how do you do this so often?!Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-45057072217558129082013-05-06T11:13:00.001-07:002013-05-06T11:13:25.235-07:00Quiet Times & Little Changes<br /><div class="MsoNormal">So here I am – again, after far too much time – but as it turns out, grad school sucks up a lot of time. However, as much time as it sucks up, I do need an outlet… lest I start randomly bursting into tears or becoming hysterical.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">My first semester of my current program is at an end and I am happy that I a) survived and b) stuck with it. I am, however, taking a break on classes over the summer – I need some time to decompress and really assess how my schedule will work in the fall because this spring was brutal and I need to make some very serious lifestyle changes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s difficult because I want to be with my family and friends all of the time – but I can’t. I’m learning that. Things cannot stay the same. I tried to maintain my life the same and all that did was make me feel constantly stressed out all. My sleeping has become increasingly erratic and my headaches have returned. My stress eating is off the chain. But I mean, I don’t want it to seem like I’ve been miserable – I love my program. Plus, I’m getting to know my new neighborhood (Columbia Heights/U Street, what what) and I’m kind of falling in love with everything from the dog parks to the 11<sup>th</sup>street district to my new favorite coffee shop, the Blind Dog Café. Lee and I are settling nicely, and I’m really digging how much more space I have in my new apartment. I’m even – gasp! – having people over occasionally!!! So I have a few things to be grateful for and happy about.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">One thing that I do really miss is the movies. I haven’t been in forever in months. What has become of me? However, the upside: this weekend, the Great Gatsby comes out in theaters and I’ll be there watching it, even if it means taking myself on a date. With most of my friends gone this weekend, it’ll be a good opportunity to just… relax. And I plan on doing just that. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve been hanging out with myself more lately in the last couple of weeks and I think it’s been good for me to take a step back from a lot of things. While I don’t feel less stressed necessarily, I feel less… pressured. If that makes any sense.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I guess the catch is making sure that I'm not actually taking so much time by myself that I end up completely alone. I have a history of this and then I get a little too comfortable in the silence.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">For now, I think I'm on the right track and I'm feeling good about where I'm at. Now to get back on a decent diet track....</div>Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-73567955779420564572013-04-06T04:05:00.000-07:002013-04-06T04:05:51.692-07:00Contributing to Joy: Why It's Challenging but NecessaryOK, so it's been a REALLY long time since I've posted. Like two months or something? First of all, I want to apologize, I swore I wasn't going to do this again... but let me try and explain myself.<br /><br />I want my blog to be a place of positive reinforcement - both for myself and others - but over the last couple of months, things have been rough in my world. I don't want to go into great detail about everything but I will just say that my father's state of health has worsened, school has intensified, and work is... well, work is (as always) very time consuming and stressful. Truth be told, I haven't really had a whole lot of positive things to say lately - I was in a serious funk, which I tend to fall into from time to time. My "funks" sometimes last for weeks, maybe months, and they involve me not really want to interact with people and also being super sad all the time. The worst thing about when I get like that is no one can really pull me out of it. I have to be ready to pull myself out. I'm sure this is frustrating for my friends - even though they'll never admit it - because there are few things worse than watching someone you love fall into misery while all you can do is just stand by and watch it happen.<br /><br />But good news! I am out of my dark period, and feeling better about things. Spring is in the air in DC (finally, after winter flat out REFUSED to get the fuck out for a long while) and I am seeing good things in front of me. A recent dinner with my advisor really helped me out, she gave me some sound advice that really struck a chord in me: "Strive to succeed but don't be afraid to fail and&nbsp;don't live in your fear. People fail sometimes, and it's OK. The world won't end."<br /><br />And that's the rub because I am always TERRIFIED of failing and of letting everyone down. My family, my friends, my boss, my colleagues, my professors. I put an unbelievable amount of pressure on myself and then I hate myself for not being perfect at everything. It's crazy, and I know it's crazy, but what can I do? I just need to give myself a fucking break already. I know I keep saying that and I'm sure if you go back and look at my other blogs I've probably said this same thing over and over again but it's so hard not to fall into that pattern over and over again.<br /><br />Anyway, while things definitely have been rough, they haven't been all bad. My dad has started chemotherapy and radiation and the doctors are very optimistic about his chances. He didn't want to go this route, treatment-wise, and fought it for a long time (and in fact is still bitter that he's doing it now) but I think he realizes that he wants to live long enough to watch his kids and his grandkids grow and succeed. He wants to get married and live with his new love for as long as possible. He wants to be a really old man sitting on his rocking chair on the back porch, watching the Pacific ocean waves crash against the sand at dawn. And I'm so relieved! He's fighting to live and thank God for that.<br /><br />School has become more manageable once I got serious about it - in the sense that I was feeling overly confident in those first couple of months, thinking I could handle it all and keep the same lifestyle I've had over the last few years. And just so you all know, I cannot. For one, classes aren't cheap and I'm not rolling in cash. For two... and this is the big one.... I just don't have the time. I just flat out don't. I can't do a bunch of happy hours. I can't party all weekend. And frankly, I don't have the energy to stay up all night reading because I decided I wanted to have a late night dinner with friends. The amount of reading I have to do for my law class is outrageous and good lord, will I be happy when it's fucking over (which will be very soon) but that's the way it is and I need to accept that. And my excess time will decrease with each passing semester.<br /><br />Though, at the same time, I cannot isolate myself because when I do that, I become sad and lonely. So it's all about finding a balance and hopefully I'll get better at that.<br /><br />Also! I am moving from Logan Circle to Columbia Heights. A slightly bigger place (though not as nice, with no hardwood floors and no dishwasher and no W/D in the unit) closer to most of my friends in the city. Closer to my gym. And right down the street from Satellite, 930 Club, Town, and Nellie's. In fact, I timed it yesterday, and it takes me approximately 7 minutes to walk to that awesome corner of U Street. Holla! That could be dangerous for me - my love for gay men, live music, and alcoholic smoothies knows no bounds.<br /><br />So things are looking up. Fun projects like painting my new apartment (which wow, how are my friends awesome enough to want to help me out with this?) and planning a charity event to raise money for Whitman-Walker's AIDS Walk are helping me to be creative and stable in their own ways.<br /><br />And now... I have finally posted something on my blog. I'll end it with a quote from the amazing Roger Ebert, who lost his battle with cancer this week but will always always always be an inspiration in my life:<br /><br />"I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn't always know this, and am happy I lived long enough to find it out."<br /><br />Much love, you guys.<br /><br />-NTashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com0Washington, DC, USA38.8951118 -77.036365838.6973758 -77.3590893 39.0928478 -76.7136423tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-49344108820860839282013-02-13T13:40:00.003-08:002013-02-13T13:40:52.598-08:00How Lena Dunham & Girls Are Hate-Mongering <br /><div class="MsoNormal">Usually, I really love HelloGiggles. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">&lt;insert Natacia is a hipster joke here&gt; </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Honestly, I think it's so nice to have a website that is devoted to happiness and cuteness and positivity. It's so refreshing. I also think there's something to be said for a group that says, hey you can wear flowery dresses and get fancy manicures and eat piles of candy and still be a "feminist" and a strong woman. I hate when women judge each other on how they SHOULD be acting in order to be independent and progressive - and goddammit, if I want to wear a dress with a peter pan collar with baretts in my fucking hair, so be it. Don't tell me that if I do that, I'm not being woman enough. I can do whatever I want.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">That being said, the below HG article really enraged me:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://hellogiggles.com/lets-leave-lena-dunhams-looks-alone-now-please">http://hellogiggles.com/lets-leave-lena-dunhams-looks-alone-now-please</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">&nbsp;It's not just because I don't care for Lena Dunham. The point that they're making here is that Hanna (the character that Lena plays in the bullshit that is HBO’s Girls) may not be traditionally pretty but using that as a reason to hate her is completely ignorant. Sure, OK, I'll totally buy that and had this article just left it at that, I would have just let it go. But the fact this chick has the nerve to say the ONLY criticism that the media (or anyone) has against Dunham is her looks - that's what really gets my goat. Lena Dunham could look like fucking Mila Kunis and I'd still think she’s awful. She comes off as a “voice of a generation” - MY generation, to my absolute horror - and her show is just a parade of overly privileged, obnoxiously affluent, hateful, selfish, self-important, pseudo-intellectual, mean-spirited, distasteful, culturally-dead city brats who like to constantly play victim when they’re cushy lives get even slightly disturbed. Oh, and they also lack any diversity, despite the fact that they live in FUCKING NEW YORK CITY. I cannot express to you how tired I am of hearing people rave about Lena Dunham and her show but what I hate more is the people who have the audacity to act like this horrible, disgusting show is an accurate representation of how “real” women are in this day and age. In the beginning of the first season alone, there was a “hilarious” scene in which some asshole fuck buddy has sex with Hanna in what is essentially a fantasy that she is an 11 year old he snatched off the street and is now raping. Another scene features a blasé attitude in regards to the matter of abortion – and no matter what your stance is on the subject, I feel like it’s a topic that at least deserves some fucking respect when addressing it. Oh, and the priceless scene where Hanna’s parents tell her she is going to be cut off financially and she plays the victim and disrespects her parents so thoroughly that I’m STILL shocked she didn’t get slapped. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I honestly don’t understand the appeal of watching a show so hateful. It’s worse than reality TV somehow. It’s like the producers of that show – ahem, I’m looking at you, Apatow – combined the public’s love of reality TV, hipster culture, and twee intellectualism into one ugly mess. It’s horribly&nbsp;exploitative&nbsp;without any real commentary. It’s shitty comic timing. It’s hip quirkiness that is totally all about how hip it’s being. Yeah, the characters are all completely unlikeable but that’s not new. Seinfeld is, I think, one of the best sitcoms to come out of TV’s history…. and let’s be honest, none of those four people where “likable.” However, that show succeeded because while the characters were kind of selfish jerks and they never really learned from their problems, the show itself&nbsp;wasn't&nbsp;angry – and the unlikability of the characters is acceptable because (for me, anyway) it&nbsp;doesn't&nbsp;revolve around self-entitlement and just all around shameless trust fund-grubbing. I think the worst part for me is how these girls use their money – wealth, by the way, that they are not earning in any way, shape, or form – to support their dreary, self-involved lives but have no interest in using this wealth to actually IMPROVE their own lives or (GASP!) give back to anything or anyone. It’s reprehensible. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">So, in conclusion, Marissa Ross – rest assured. Lena Dunham’s looks are the least vile thing about her. In fact, I happen to think she’s a fairly attractive looking person. It’s her view of the world that is ugly.&nbsp;</div>Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com0Washington, DC, USA38.8951118 -77.036365838.6973758 -77.3590893 39.0928478 -76.7136423tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801809700356831094.post-33651492538942479252013-02-05T14:14:00.001-08:002013-02-11T05:51:41.911-08:00Forgiveness & Personal GrowthRecently I experienced the official end of a friendship and it was a somewhat surreal experience - mostly because of the things that this person told me, airing out hateful grievances that quite honestly came out of nowhere. However, that's not really what this post is about. It stinks when a break from someone is messy but such is life. What really stuck in my mind was discussing with a group of friends my inability to let people go even when they have done something reprehensible and one of my friends telling me that people are often better than the worst thing they've ever done. It's a phrase I've heard before but somehow I haven't been able to get it out of my head since she said it.<br /><br />I've started wondering what my line is, if any. It's an odd thing because I can be a highly critical person - sometimes as a joke and sometimes for real - but I have the fundamental belief that all people have the capacity to be more than what we see and more than even they think they are. I can forgive a person for just about anything because we're all fallible and I want to believe that if I did something "unforgivable," that there would be someone there who might still believe in me anyway.<br /><br />I suppose where things get sticky is when it's quite obvious that a person has no interest in changing or growing or honest self-reflection. I think at a certain point, the groundwork of a person is what it is - such as their values - but I also think that a person should be learning more about himself every single day. We never finish growing and that's the beauty of life! Also? I have a level of respect for someone who accepts that they don't have all the answers and is constantly looking for more of them.<br /><br />Essentially I think just about everyone is worth the effort. Even the people I walk away from... I honestly hope they have a person who sticks around and tries to help them be better versions of themselves. It's just the emotional and psychological toll that some relationships take in my life that I can't handle and sometimes we have to be a little selfish and think about our own self-preservation.<br /><br />In truth, I'm lucky to be surrounded by such a rich and diverse group of friends. I feel like not everyone has this luxury. I know when things get hard, I'll have people to lean on... I just like thinking that I can provide that level of comfort and peace to others as well. <br /><br />In the end, I don't think people are built to be alone and I feel like they should have freedom to make mistakes without ending up alone. Measuring our own capacity for forgiveness, tolerance, and acceptance is what makes us exceptional beings. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />....Too uplifting for a rainy Monday morning?Tashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04391657395201761571noreply@blogger.com0